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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353306">A Sweet Arrangement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/photogiraffe77/pseuds/photogiraffe77'>photogiraffe77</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A little angst, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Law firms, M/M, Touch-Starved, but I always say then there's more angst that I planned so yeah, college student! bokuto, humor I promise, lawyer! Akaashi, soft bois, this is going to be really sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:14:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/photogiraffe77/pseuds/photogiraffe77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At 36, lonely lawyer Akaashi Keiji is convinced that he is one, entirely too young to join a sugar dating app and two, that he is just fine how is, comfortable in his routine. He has his law firm, his success, his friends, what else does he need? (other than new friends who definitely don't get him drunk and coerce him into signing up for the app.)</p><p>Bokuto is a college student failing in his senior year thanks to statistics being difficult AF. Sure, he can still play volleyball, but with his scholarship dollars revoked, he knows full well he's up shit's creek (and no, not the cool Netflix show) financially. Kuroo, however, has had nothing but luck out of this new app he's been using. So maybe it's worth a shot to try it out... what else does he have to lose?</p><p>*Now with fan art!!*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>409</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Desperate Decision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamPresident2032/gifts">MadamPresident2032</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbyblake/gifts">bbyblake</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/umicrunch/gifts">umicrunch</a>.</li>



    </ul><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys. It's me again, not updating the fics I already have and instead, posting a whole ass new one. This fic is a gift for my three friends who always listen to my ideas and support me and are just super freaking kind and wonderful humans. Much love to you gals!!</p><p>Please enjoy this beautiful mess of a BokuAka falling in love thru a sugar dating app.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mornings start off the same way every day for Akaashi, a long-established routine that he never seemed capable of changing, even after all these years. The routine was safe, a specially layered pattern of control and stability, designed to keep him grounded and centered, to train his body before tirelessly using his brain. His friends teased him, calling him a bit anal and obsessive, but he was good at shaking those comments off. After all, he was up before the sun even had a chance to touch the concrete skyline, and in that, he would always find solace.</p><p> At 5:30 each morning, his alarm went off, signaling the beginning of a new day. With memorized movements, he woke up and made his king-sized bed that was only ever mussed on the left-hand side, before changing into his Speedo brand leg skins and an old hoodie, something he didn’t mind abandoning in a random deck chair during his workout. Along with his luxurious apartment came access to the large, heated indoor swimming pool that was reserved for the elite, penthouse residents only. Not that anyone living in his high-rise building in downtown Tokyo could be classed as anything less than elite, but well, there came special privileges for residing at the top.</p><p>Three miles - one mile of the breaststroke, one mile of the backstroke, and one mile of the grueling butterfly, each lap tearing at his lean muscles, reminding that he was alive and well and <em> here </em>. He moved through the water like he was made to cut it, long arms, toned stomach, black hair tucked carefully into a swim cap, prescription goggles on, tinted a rich sea green. Each gasping breath above the surface filled his lungs with heavy humidity and the sharp scent of pool chemicals. Beautiful azure eyes opened just in time to watch himself as he flipped, planting his feet to the painted concrete, projecting him to start a new lap, to try again.</p><p>After his swim routine was completed, he pulled himself from the warm water, rinsed off in the adjacent showers, then headed immediately back toward his penthouse. After a real shower in his luxurious walk-in, complete with a rain-fall shower head, he changed into designer clothes fitting of his profession. Then, Akaashi made himself a vanilla latte and a slice of avocado toast, both favorites of his. He enjoyed his breakfast while watching the news, keeping a keen eye out for any name he might recognize during the crime watch, especially a former (or god help him, current) client. </p><p>By 7:30, Akaashi was out the door, refill of his vanilla latte in one hand, a leatherbound Coach briefcase in the other. It took exactly four and a half minutes to ride the elevator to the underground garage and walk the twenty-two paces to his sleek, white Audi A8. Once inside, he settled into the dark, rich leather, started the engine with a push of a button, and called his assistant, Konoha, via Bluetooth to receive a full run-down of his day, even before arriving at the office.</p><p>Never late, never once missing his sharply set 8 a.m. arrival time, Akaashi strolled through the door of ‘Ushijima, Akaashi &amp; Associates’. Without missing a beat, Konoha greeted him at the front, taking his coat and his briefcase, handing him a file. At some point on his practiced march through the corporate hallway, painted a blinding white with gray, modern carpeting, Akaashi passed his partner’s office, throwing an obligatory wave to Ushijima Wakatoshi, as though to say ‘good morning’. The broad man waved back, but the pair said nothing. They would speak at 10 a.m. when it was time to review case notes and prep for Ushijima’s opening statements for court next week.</p><p>After dismissing Konoha with a pleasant and practiced, <em> ‘thank you, Konoha-san </em> ’, Akaashi turned on his computer. And in the thirty seconds it took for the device to boot up, the young lawyer allowed himself the minuscule fragment of time to sob, to really <em> feel </em>, even if just for a moment. The cries were quiet, so hushed that no one could ever hear them, even if his office door was open. It wasn’t - Konoha knew how much Akaashi valued his privacy and routine, a chance to filter and sort through emails and files prior to his daily morning meeting with Ushijima. He pawed at his reddening cheeks with the backs of his hands, collecting warm, wet tears as they ran so effortlessly down his beautiful face, unchanged by time, even as he crept closer to forty.</p><p>Finally, the computer chimed, prompting him to sign in. Akaashi composed himself by clearing his throat before taking a long sip of the lemon water his assistant so kindly left on his desk. It was truly the start to his day: there was no time to be lonely. </p><p>*</p><p>“Bokuto, I swear to Christ above that if you don’t get your fucking ass up, I will punch you so hard in the kidneys you piss blood!”</p><p>Ignoring his roommate’s threats (knowing full well they weren’t empty ones), the college volleyball player only groaned and pulled the pillow tighter over his head. He didn’t give a shit about advanced statistics: never had and never will.</p><p>“Go away, Kuroo,” Bokuto barked sleepily, eyes still heavy, the traces of a dream still lingering in his frontal lobe. He wanted nothing more than to just fall back into it, to go back to dreamland. It sure as shit was better than this reality.</p><p>“Bo, get the-” his roommate grabbed his ankles and yanked “-fuck up!” It happened in a flail of flannel sheets, the large man falling out of bed with a resounding ‘<em> thump </em>’ as he was quite literally dragged from out beneath his blankets. In his head, Bo said an apology to his downstairs neighbors. But aloud, he shot a slew of curses his best friend’s way.</p><p>“Why the fuck should I go to class, huh?” Bo leered at Kuroo as he asked that question, scrambling to pull his blankets back down, away from his face. Given the concerned quality of Kuroo’s expression, he was starting to get the point. “I already let my GPA slip below a 2.5 and I lost my scholarship.”</p><p>This wasn’t news to Kuroo - not at all. “I know, Bo, but you can still play on the team! And if you do well on your finals, maybe you can get the scholarship back for the spring term!” </p><p>Clicking his tongue indignantly, Bokuo leaned back, letting himself melt into the beige carpet. “I won’t, Tetsu, and you know that. I’m too stupid and now I can’t afford to pay for these classes and it’s already November, mind you.” He released a long sigh, feeling Kuroo’s golden eyes watching him. “So yeah, I’m royally fucked.”</p><p>“The only time I’ve ever thought you were stupid is when you act like this.” They had known each other a long time, since they were deskmates back in elementary school. Kuroo had always been more intelligent, at least as dictated by test scores and report cards. Science and math were his bread and butter, but the even more obscure subjects, like English and art history were a breeze, too. They wound up at Tokyo University for two different reasons: Kuroo had been accepted based on recommendation, a scholarship student for the chemistry department. It was such a high honor. </p><p>Bokuto, however, had earned his spot with an unrivaled performance during spring nationals his senior year high school. That translated to him becoming the captain and ace for Tokyo University, a role he took very seriously. School, on the other hand... not so much. Sure, he was a physical therapy major, and should he not get scouted into the V-league as he planned, it would serve as a great fall back career. But the only way his contingency plan would actually work was if he graduated, a task that he was not (currently) working very hard toward. His motivation was depleted, especially after the harsh ‘D’ he earned in Calculus. Why did he even need to know calc to be a physical therapist? It just wasn’t fair!</p><p>And sure, Kuroo’s words were harsh, and they settled into his skin like a heavy brand, but they were exactly what he needed to hear. His best friend had repeatedly told him that he wasn’t dumb, that he <em> was </em> smart, that he just had a niche set of things he was good at as far as academia. Yeah, Bo didn’t have the whole periodic table memorized like Kuroo, but he could help anyone feel at ease during an examination. Over and over again in his practicum last semester, the attending PT praised his apprentice for his ability to administer range of motion exercises, knowing which weighted band to use for which ligament or injury, for always saying just the right thing to make his patient’s day, whether they were 8 or 80. That kind of praise had been the only thing motivating him to complete the otherwise shitty semester. </p><p> Defeatedly, Bokuto groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and pushing his palms into his bloodshot eyes. He knew he needed to listen and get up and go. He knew he needed to keep trying. Deep down, he knew that, was perfectly aware of the consequences if he didn’t. It was hard when he felt so down like this, and as much as he hated admitting it, Kuroo was right. </p><p>“Fine,” he exhaled, reaching for his best friend’s proffered hand, “but you’re buying us Monsters on the way there.”</p><p>“We’re gonna piss green if we do that.”</p><p>Bokuto smiled. “Better than pissing blood.”</p><p>He could do this - he could go to class, fix the semester, figure his shit out. No problem.  </p><p>*</p><p>“Akaashi-san, are you still planning on joining my husband and me for drinks this evening?” Ushijima inquired without looking up from his laptop. His reading glasses were resting high on his straight nose, the silver frames catching the fluorescent lights of the office. </p><p>It was Friday, which meant they had a standing reservation at Ushijima’s husband’s favorite upscale bar. The model turned marketing director had impeccable taste and an affinity for being social, the former of which his attorney husband sorely lacked. Akaashi lacked it, too, honestly. Whereas Akaashi just hated the noise and the forced conversation, Ushijima truly seemed like it pained him to be polite and cordial. A powerhouse with words in the courtroom, not so much in any given social circle. </p><p>“I suppose if I don’t turn up, Oikawa-san will not let me live it down.” The previous few weeks, Akaashi had skipped their date. It was too difficult, spending time around happily married couples. It wasn’t just Oikawa and Ushijima who came, it was also Sugawara and his husband, Sawamura. There was nothing quite like being an awkward, single, fifth wheel.</p><p>“He is concerned for you,” Ushijima stated flatly, typing away at his keyboard, the sound rhythmic and almost soothing. “He thinks that you are lonely.”</p><p>To that, Akaashi hummed. Of course, Oikawa was worried for him. They had been best friends for a very long time, their meeting dating all the way back to high school, where they had both attended Seijo. Akaashi was a swimmer and Oikawa was a volleyball player, but they had similar classes and were both highly intelligent. </p><p>“I am busy with work,” Akaashi replied dully. It was normal for Oikawa to fret. But recently, his best friend was beginning to drive him insane, always offering to set up a blind date for him or blatantly bringing someone along with him to the bar, someone Akaashi ‘just <em> haaaaad </em> to meet’. With all objectivity, his suggestions were growing more and more ridiculous, each date more tiring and incompatible with him than the last. Since having his heart utterly broken five years ago, Akaashi had sworn off dating, even sex, devoting his whole being to opening the firm with Ushijima. But now that things were settled and the pair were extremely well-established, Oikawa was pushing all the harder.</p><p>“No busier than me.” It was Ushijima’s idea of a joke and the black-haired lawyer couldn’t help but smile. Damn it, his partner was right. In fact, Ushijima may have been even busier than Akaashi, what with the new murder defense case he had taken on that was going to start on Wednesday.</p><p>Giving in, Akaashi went back to his own notes. “Fine,” he conceded. “Just one drink.”</p><p>*</p><p>“Oh, Keiji-chan, you came!” Oikawa greeted him, throwing his long arms around his best friend’s neck. The marketing director smelled good, he always did, like fresh linen and citrus soap. And as he planted friendly kisses on Akaashi’s check, the lawyer felt his face heat up. Oikawa was always so affectionate and flirty, especially after a few glasses of wine. </p><p>“Hello, Oikawa-san,” he said, keeping his greeting formal for the sake that they were in public, a courtesy that Oikawa did not return.</p><p>“Stop that!” his best friend chided, pulling away from his embrace. “I hate when you use your lawyer voice.”</p><p>“You like when Ushijima uses it.”</p><p>At that, Oikawa flushed. “Well yes, but that is for an entirely different reason. ‘Toshi can get whatever he wants when speaks in that tone.”</p><p>Since Akaashi had left the office last, as per usual, Ushijima was already sitting there, one whiskey neat deep, situated beside a very chatty Sugawara. He seemed to be listening intently to some story the fair-haired creature was sharing, his slender hands waving in the air in an exciting retelling. On Suga’s other side was his beloved and dedicated husband, nodding at all the right places.</p><p>“The same rules don’t apply to me?” Akaashi joked, now following his best friend back toward their reserved booth. The bar was high-class and upscale, just to Oikawa’s ostentatious tastes, and their special booth gave a terrific view of the city. Beneath them, the blues and purples of the fading twilight gave way to orange and white streetlights, paired with the distant rush of vehicles. From their position on the 22nd floor, the cars seemed like tiny, distant ants.</p><p>“Oh, Keiji-chan,” Oikawa cooed as they closed the gap to the table, “you are gorgeous, but you couldn’t handle it if they did.”</p><p>Even after all these years, Akaashi had yet to grow completely used to his best friend’s shameless flirting and suggestive comments. The lawyer chalked it up to his lack of human touch. The only time he ever received any form of physical affection was from Tooru. Actually, the only time he received affection of any kind was from Tooru, including breezy words and genuine compliments. Though they were just friends and always had been, the sincerity would always fluster him. </p><p>“Keiji! How lovely it is to see you!” Suga chirped, beaming from his spot in between the two beefcakes. </p><p>The ash-blonde’s husband greeted him next. “Hey, welcome to the party.”</p><p>“Hello, Sugawara-san, Sawamura-san.” Akaashi lowered himself into the free end of the booth, right beside Sawamura, the infamous homicide and drug-trafficking detective. </p><p>“Baby, switch me seats!” Suga prompted, tapping his husband impatiently on the arm. Feigning an annoyed groan, Daichi complied, pushing himself further into the plush upholstery, trying to create a little more room for Suga to crawl over him. And, in typical Suga fashion, he had to make a show of the ordeal, lingering just a little too long on Daichi’s lap as he straddled the detective’s thick thighs, clothed in his polyester slacks.</p><p>“Babe, get off!” he hissed, hands on his husband’s hips as he pushed him down into the seat, effectively swapping spots.</p><p>“Daichi used to be fun,” Suga pouted, sticking out his lips in a show of annoyance.</p><p>“Ushiwaka-chan has never been fun, so there’s that,” Oikawa huffed, stepping out of the booth before making his way to the opposite side.</p><p><em> Oh god, </em> Akaashi realized much too late, <em> they’re going to trap me in here. </em> Sure enough, the brunette slid in next to Akaashi, effectively sandwiching him in between his two closest friends.</p><p>“Can you believe this sass?” Daichi asked, elbowing Ushijima in the shoulder.</p><p>The taller man shrugged. “Sass encompasses about 90% of what Oikawa says.”</p><p>Fully scandalized, Oikawa pushed an offended hand against his slender chest, long fingers splaying over his perfectly pressed Hugo Boss dress shirt. “Stop your shit-talking and order us another wine.”</p><p>“Ohhh my god and yakitori!” Suga added. Beside them, their husbands only sighed. Akaashi felt a little bit bad for them.</p><p>“Keiji, sweetheart,” Suga cooed, turning in his seat to face his dark-haired friend head-on. “I have something to tell you about.”</p><p>On his other side, Oikawa perked up. “Do you have a prospect for our dear Keiji-chan?”</p><p>Without replying, Akaashi swiped his friend’s nearly full glass of wine, gulping it down, manners and germs be damned. He was going to need a lot more alcohol if he was going to survive this conversation let alone this night. Finally, after the glass was empty, he stated as bluntly as possible: “not interested.” To emphasize his point, he slammed the wine glass down with a little more force than necessary. </p><p>“Just hear me out, please, Keiji!” Suga was pleading now, his large, honey eyes wide and watery. He even had his hands clutched in front of his chest, as though he were truly begging, groveling for a chance to present his case. </p><p><em> Ha </em> , Akaashi thought as the first wave of alcohol crashed through his brain, <em> for someone who wins in the courtroom all the time, I can’t even talk my way out of these sort of conversations with my own friends.  </em></p><p>“Fine,” he deadpanned, motioning for the passing waiter to bring another glass of wine, “enlighten me with whatever scheme you have up your sleeve while I drink away my sorrows.” </p><p>Not even slightly deterred by Akaashi’s blatant discomfort regarding the inevitable dating suggestion that was next, Suga excitedly continued. “Okay, so you know my friend Kenma, right?”</p><p>Oikawa gasped. “Oh, that cute video game CEO, yeah?” </p><p>Of course, Akaashi knew him. A few years back, they had met, and the attorney had helped him draft some contract papers when he bought out Yokahama Electronics, successfully making him the sole gaming company with distribution rights for Microsoft Japan. The conglomerate had been huge news, and Kozume had paid Akaashi quite generously for his time. He was a soft-spoken but ruthless man, with long dark hair, bleached at the tips, and Akaashi remembered his flawless and unmatched work ethic.</p><p>Suga nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s the one! Anyway, he’s been telling me about his recent exploits on an app--”</p><p>“A dating app?” Oikawa asked, quirking an exquisite, manicured brow. Honestly, sometimes, Akaashi felt like he didn’t even exist when he sat between the two. On the other end of the table, Ushijima and Daichi were engaged in their own conversation, completely happy to let the trio talk about god knows what. <em> Save me from your husbands </em>, he begged, knowing full well it was a thought and not an actual audible sentence.</p><p>“Kind of…” the ash-blonde trailed off, a clear glint of mischief in his eye. “Maybe.”</p><p>“Maybe?”</p><p>Blessedly, another three full glasses of top-shelf cabernet were delivered by their waiter. With a knowing nod, he just left the bottle, and Akaashi was so very thankful. He hadn’t intended to get shit-faced tonight, but he also hadn’t planned to be coerced into joining some sketchy dating app, so he gave himself a bit of grace.</p><p>“Elaborate on the ‘maybe’, Suga-chan.”</p><p>“Okay, I only downloaded it because I wanted to check it out for research’s sake, please keep in mind that I am a happily married man.” With that, Suga produced his phone from his pocket, clicking away at the screen for a few moments until he set the device down on the table. “So it’s an app called ‘Sweet Tooth’,” he explained, clicking on the little icon, the image of a white tooth with a shimmering gold background. “And it’s meant to pair up sugar daddies and sugar babies.”</p><p>Upon hearing the taboo titles, Akaashi nearly spit out his red wine. Which would have been a crying shame, truly, because one, the wine was expensive, and two, so was his custom-tailored smoke-gray Armani suit. Oikawa, on the other hand, squealed with delight. </p><p>“Oh my god, Suga-chan, are you suggesting we sign up our sweet Keiji-chan to be a--” he glanced around the table before leaning in, thankfully, lowering his voice-- “a <em> sugar daddy </em>?”</p><p>“Nope, no way, no,” Akaashi deadpanned as he shotgunned the last of his beverage. “First of all, am I even old enough to qualify as a ‘sugar daddy’?”</p><p>“According to the rules of this app, you are! You just have to be 35. And you’re 36!”</p><p>“And the minimum age to be a sugar baby? 18?” He honestly felt sick at the thought. </p><p>“21, actually. They have to be old enough to drink,” Suga assured. “I signed up on the sugar baby side since I’m only 27, but look,” he slid the phone over so it was perfectly centered in front of the lawyer, “it’s super legit. You just post a picture or two, a description of yourself, and then you get matched with someone. You just like, swipe through your suggestions! And there are a bunch of pre-assigned preferences you can check off beforehand.” </p><p>“Oh, there are some hotties!” Oikawa noted, swiping listlessly through the ‘daddies’ that were suggested for Suga, chocolate eyes glue to the screen. “If the daddies are this hot, imagine how hot the babies are!”</p><p>“So I’ve stooped so low I have to pay someone to have sex with me.” </p><p>Suga shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be sex! It’s honestly just spoiling someone for spending time with you.”</p><p>“So instead of sex, I’m paying them to enjoy my company?” he blanched, more than offended. Grabbing Oikawa’s untouched wine, he took a long sip. “I’m glad I’m so terrible that the only way anyone could spend time with me romantically is if I give them a monetary incentive to do so.”</p><p>Suga looked downtrodden, as it was evident that he didn’t mean to offend. Thankfully, Oikawa was charismatic and quick to offer an elaboration. “I think what Suga-chan is trying to suggest,” Tooru began, “is that if you signed up for this app, you could meet someone interesting and hot. And you wouldn’t have to worry about the underlying perimeters and expectations of a typical relationship. You know, the shitty stuff, like jealousy or if you have enough time to spend with them.”</p><p>That last one was a low blow, and they all three knew it, but it had to be said. All those years ago, his last heartbreak had stemmed from Miya Osamu asking Akaashi to make a choice: him, or his work, accusing the lawyer of living at the office. There had been truth in Osamu’s words, Akaashi was overly-dedicated to his job, especially in the early years of their firm start-up. In the process, their relationship had been greatly neglected, their sex life on the back burner, as well as their emotional connection. Akaashi ate, slept, breathed for his law firm. And out of his desire to be selfish no longer, he let what he believed to be the love of his life go, wishing him well. To this day, Akaashi would meander past Onigiri Miya and wonder what might have been.</p><p>“So what would I get out of this, then?” Akaashi asked, head swimming from the cabernet. “They get money, what do I get?”</p><p>Suga smiled and shared a Cheshire look with Oikawa. Taking one of Akaashi’s hands between his own delicate ones, he said as carefully as possible, “a cure to your loneliness.” </p><p>*</p><p>Kuroo had been seeing a new guy for several months, but Bokuto had yet to meet him. When asked, his best friend brushed it off, saying, ‘he’s just a private guy.’ That excuse may have worked for a while, but now it was Friday night and Kuroo was packing an overnight bag for yet another top-secret weekend, and Bokuto had had enough. They were BFFs, bro-migos, bros-in-crime, bro-sters. Any ungodly, annoying combination or pun involving the term ‘bros’, that was them. They shared everything, every secret, every embarrassing dream or thought, no holds barred. So why was Kuroo keeping this from him? </p><p>His time away from the apartment wasn’t Bokuto’s only cause for concern. Lately, his best friend had even been showing up to the apartment with new luxuries he knew damn well that the bedhead couldn’t afford: a top of line iPhone, a gaming system that hadn’t been released yet to the public, and not to mention, just a few days ago, he even had a brand new Tempurpedic bed delivered. It was all getting increasingly suspicious. They shared a small apartment not too far from their university. It wasn’t anything extravagant; Boktuo worked at a chain sports shop as an assistant manager, and the perpetual bedhead was a bartender at a little hole-in-the-wall place just down the way from their home, so it’s not like they had huge budgets to work with. </p><p>Based on the evidence, Bokuto had two theories. The first being that his friend was involved with some super sketchy yakuza dude who paid him to not snitch on all their illegal crime stuff. Or two, Kuroo was seeing a married man but was still being bribed to keep their affair on the DL Now, Bokuto wasn’t one to judge and his moral compass didn’t always point due north - he had been involved in a threesome once and damn, was that pretty neat, as well as his fair share of other taboo desires. He was, simply put, just <em> worried </em>.</p><p>If it was the former option, he was genuinely concerned for Kuroo’s safety. The yakuza were obviously dangerous and that could inadvertently land Kuroo in jail or even worse. And if it was the latter, Bokuto wanted to talk to his best friend regarding the situation. In his humble opinion, Kuroo deserved better than to be involved in a cuckold, but he needed to hear his side before drawing conclusions. Kuroo’s safety and happiness were the most important, paramount above the rest.</p><p>“Kuroo, we need to talk. Have a seat,” Bokuto spoke with a low, collected voice, gesturing to the chair across from him, channeling every ounce of his maturity in his body. </p><p>The large duffel bag that was hiked up on Kuroo’s broad shoulder fell to the floor as the tall man obeyed Bo’s orders, settling in across from his best friend. Blinking owlishly with those wide, golden eyes, his roommate seemed prepared to finally answer questions. “Okay,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Yeah, that skintight, black Gymshark compression top was <em> definitely </em>new.</p><p>Well, this was a little easier than he had anticipated, all things considered. “I have some questions for you.”</p><p>“You want to know who I’m dating or at the very least where I get all my new stuff.”</p><p>Okay, maybe this was going a <em> lot </em> smoother than anticipated. Which could only mean that Kuroo had a counter plan of some sort, and the tables were about to turn (like, the actual kitchen table that separated them). Bokuto had been prepared for evasive answers and to be brushed off once again, and that clearly wasn’t going to happen. </p><p>“Uh, yeah.” Dumbfounded, truly, Bokuto uncrossed his own arms, instead moving his hands to tap nervously on his sweat-pant clad thighs. “I do, actually.”</p><p>“And you have a theory or two.”</p><p>Damn, they had been friends for too long. “Uh, yeah.” Those seemed to be the only words he could comprehend at the moment.</p><p>“Let’s hear ‘em.”</p><p>“My theories?”</p><p>“No, your Terminator impression.”</p><p>“Oh!” He cleared his throat. “<em> Come with me if you want to-- </em>”</p><p>Kuroo held up his hand, effectively cutting of Bo’s absolutely perfect (in his humble opinion) rendition of a sunglasses-clad Arnold Schwarzenegger. Should he go as the Terminator for Halloween next year? That was one to put in the back of his brain.</p><p>“I didn’t mean literally, Bo.” The chemistry major sighed and shook his head. “Just tell me what crazy thing you’ve thought up.”</p><p>“You’re dating a dude in the Yakuza,” he blurted, causing his best friend to chuckle. The corners of his eyes creased as he did so, a wide grin splitting his face in two. </p><p>“Nope, but I think he would be pretty amused to hear that.”</p><p>“Umm,” and he was a little more tentative to ask this one since its likelihood was so much higher, “is this guy, umm,” he paused, taking a quick breath, “married?” He winced as he squeaked out the word.</p><p>Kuroo repeated it with a prominent balk. “<em> Married?! </em>”</p><p>Bokuto puffed, unsure as to why the notion seemed so ridiculous. “Yeah, married! Is that why you have to sneak around so much? Like, is he hiding you from his wife? Because Kuroo, you’re a catch and you deserve more than to be a mistress, okay bro? You should be like, put on a pedestal, ya know? Treated like a king!”</p><p>Leaning forward to gently pat Bokuto’s shoulder, Kuroo looked touched by his friend’s concern, but still amused, all at the same time. “Bo-bro, it’s nothing like that, I promise.”</p><p>“It’s not?”</p><p>“No way, but I appreciate your apprehension, truly.” A boyish yet cunning smile flashed across his face then, quick and striking like lightning. “I don’t think you’d ever guess it, actually. So I’m just gonna go ahead and tell you.”</p><p>Bokuto scooted closer to the edge of his seat.</p><p>“I’m actually dating a sugar daddy.”</p><p>Bewildered and sputtering, Bokuto’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “You’re <em> what?! </em>”</p><p>“I’m dating a sugar daddy,” Kuroo repeated nonchalantly, as though he were simply reporting the weather.</p><p>Lowering his voice and glancing around as if anyone but them were in their apartment right now, Bokuto whispered (not really whispered, more like hoarse shouting, if he’s being honest with himself), “Tetsu, are you a <em> prostitute </em>?”</p><p>The fucker wouldn’t stop laughing. “No, I’m not a prostitute, though I think if I were, I’d be like, an escort? Maybe?”</p><p>“Maybe!! What are you saying?”</p><p>Waving his hands in an effort to calm Bokuto down, he continued to clarify, “I spend time with a hot rich guy and he pays me to be there with him.”</p><p>“Uh… okay.” That sounded… strange? But not bad. “How does it work?”</p><p>“Hmm? Oh, well, we just met on this app a few months ago, and we’ve gone out on dates and little vacations. He pays me a base amount for each date, as well as gives me an allowance, like spending cash.” A far off look lingered in his eye, something a bit wistful. “Also, if there’s something I want, he just like, gets it for me.”</p><p>“Like your phone and stuff?”</p><p>“Fuck yeah!” he sat up just a moment to fish his brand new iPhone out of his back pocket. “Here’s what it’s about,” he explained, unlocking his screen. He flicked through his apps until he came to a glittery gold one with the image of a cartoon tooth on the front. </p><p>“Is this how you schedule your dentist appointments?”</p><p>“No, bro, this is called ‘Sweet Tooth’,” Kuroo told him as the app loaded. It took a moment, but finally, a new screen popped up. It was Kuroo’s profile, which was currently set to ‘closed’. </p><p>“Are you closed because you’re seeing someone?”</p><p>The bedhead nodded. “Yeah, and we agreed to be exclusive, so there’s that. I honestly haven’t opened the app in like, five or six weeks, but I’ve been planning to show you.”</p><p>“Show me?” Why on earth would Kuroo show this to him?</p><p>“Yeah man, it’s awesome. I think you should set up a profile. I mean, even in light of your scholarship bullshit, it’s a lot of fun. Plus, you might even meet a good dude to sponsor your draft to the V-League. How lit would that be?”</p><p>Now that did sound pretty lit. “You really think I could?”</p><p>“Yeah totally, bro. Why not?” He stood from his spot then, rising to full height. “I have to get going or Kenma is gonna be pissed, but take some time tonight and set up a profile. Just put some of your buff pics, one in your volleyball uniform, and totally that one from last Christmas where you looked like a suave ass James Bond in your black sweater when your hair was down. You’ll catch a hottie in no time.”</p><p>“Do I have to sleep with them?”</p><p>Thankfully, Kuroo shook his head. “Nah dude, there’s preferences that you can set up, and one of them is whether or not you’re open to sex.”</p><p>Bokuto hummed and handed the phone back to his best friend, who was now looking incredibly antsy to leave. This all seemed too good to be true.</p><p>“Do, umm, you sleep with yours?”</p><p>Kuroo winked before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to his friend’s temple, a habit he had always had. The tall, black-haired man was affectionate, had been their whole lives. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.” With a little wink, he waved as he made his way to the genkan. “Text me if you decide to download it. I gotta run, bro!”</p><p>“Yeah, okay. Have a good weekend, bro!” Bokuto raised his hand in dismissal. Once his roommate disappeared out the other side of the door, Bokuto pulled out his own phone. </p><p><em> I’ll just download it </em> , he told himself as he made his way to the app store, typing in the words ‘Sweet Tooth’. It only took a few seconds for the familiar gold sparkle icon to pop up, along with the white molar that was <em> definitely </em>not for booking dentist appointments. As the app downloaded, Bokuto wandered over to the fridge to heat up some leftover rice. What was the harm in downloading it, right? He could make a quick profile, no harm done. Just set it up and see what it was about, and if it was stupid, he just needed to delete it.</p><p><em> Yeah </em> , he thought, convinced as the microwave beeped. <em> Just add a few pics, write a cool description of myself, and just see who comes up. </em> Pulling the food out and popping a quick spoonful into his mouth, the contents lukewarm, <em> I probably won’t even meet anyone good. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi friends! I hope you enjoyed this!! Please leave me a comment to let me know your thoughts!! &lt;3 This will be a bit slower to update until I wrap up a few projects, but know that I adore and thrive off of your feedback. This is my first BokuAka-centric fic, and I'm so excited to bring it to you! :) Come yell at me on Tumblr: https://photogiraffe77.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. To Luck Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi friends!! I cannot believe all the love you guys gave me on the first chapter. Wow, I am sooo blown away!! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You really know how to make a gal feel special and loved. </p><p>I am soooo sorry that this chapter isn't as long as they normally are in my fics, but it also doesn't feature any dialogue lol. So that's kind of why. It's a setup chapter for sure! But I promise fun stuff is on the way. (though I think this chapter is kinda fun, too.)</p><p><b>DISCLAIMER:</b> I in no way, shape, or form, think Bo is 'stupid'. As a college instructor, I know intelligence shows itself in many ways, and one of my favorite quotes from Albert Einstein says, 'if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life believing it's stupid'. This is Bo's internal thought process and we all know our favorite beefy boi has insecurities!! I just wanted to throw that out there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The app allowed only three photos, so he had to be choosy. Yeah, the black sweater one was in there, but it was going to be third. He needed a good, solid pic to really catch someone’s eye… Well, at least someone kinda decent. What photos did Kuroo use? He couldn’t help but wonder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrolling through his shameless gym selfies, Bokuto was critical of each one he came across. He had to choose one where he was wearing the right outfit. Should he post one where he had on leggings, or post one while wearing shorts? Leggings were sexy and left more to the imagination, but shorts were almost erotic, and would no doubt really grab someone’s attention. His camera roll was flooded with options, it was just too hard to choose!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Bokuto was a shallow person, because he wasn’t! Truly! He was just aware that his body was good thanks to how hard he trained it for the sport he loved, that was all. This helped compensate for the kind of bimbo-y things that came out of his mouth from time to time. Not that he thought he was dumb, not really. He was just painfully aware that he wasn’t the best at school and holding conversations about stuff like the economy made him want to tear his dual-toned hair right out of his head. So for Bokuto, putting a body shot front and center was really like putting his best foot forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And it’s not that he was after sex , either. If he wanted to hook up with a hot guy or girl, he totally could. Someone close to his age from the college campus, maybe the cute barista at the coffee shop who left her number on his latte a few days ago. Or the dude at the fitness center who worked the front counter who always gave him a free Gatorade and touched his hand when he scanned his ID card. Sure, sex was fun, but it wasn’t everything and he didn’t really see himself as a ‘player’. Too easily would his own feelings become a factor and that would often leave him feeling disheartened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This particular endeavor was about having fun, getting paid, keeping some rich dude company, and possibly being doted on to the point of a potential sponsorship to the V-League. That was all - nothing more, nothing less. However, when given the option at sign up, he clicked ‘open to sex’. The other choices were ‘Required’, ‘Never’, or ‘Will Discuss Further’. Narrowing this down helped with connecting pairs in advance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, if he was ever going to solve his dilemma, he needed to consult an outside party. It was time to call in the expert (or text him in, rather.) </span>
</p><p><b>Me [11:02 p.m.]:</b> <em><span>Leggings or shorts?</span></em></p><p>
  <span>He didn’t expect an immediate response. After all, Kuroo was probably pretty busy with his sugar daddy and not paying attention to texts or notifications. Which was understandable, honestly.  If someone is basically paying you for your time, it would be extremely rude to waste their money by sitting on your phone and blatantly ignoring him. In fact, it was bad manners whether on the clock or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to flip through pictures, scouring to make a decision. This was so much harder than he thought! Not to mention the short character limit that was given for a description of some kind. Bokuto prided himself in being more of a… ‘in-person’ kind personality, as sometimes, his charm was lost when it came to the written word, or so he had been told.</span>
</p><p><b>Kurobro [11:10 p.m.]:</b> <em><span>Dude ya gotta go with leggings. Leave ‘em wanting more.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Alright, so that was one problem solved. Bokuto fired off a quick ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks dude</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ before returning to the profile set up. Finally, he selected the picture he liked, which included him in extremely tight athletic leggings, black with a gold stripe up each side. He wore a white crop-top t-shirt with his school’s volleyball club name written across it, the sleeves cut off to showcase toned arms. In the photo, he was posed in front of a floor-length mirror, a set of dumbbells on the rack in front of him. For the caption, he kept it simple ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>let’s sweat together</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, with that complete, his profile was live and available for viewing. He could start getting messages from potential guys immediately if anyone was interested at all. The rules of the app stated that every ‘Daddy’ had to be verified, which included confirming their photos, age, and bank account status. Individuals who tried to sign up and couldn’t do those things would automatically be denied access. With that information alone, it helped the whole ordeal feel a little safer. Plus, if his best bro in the whole world vouched for it, then it must be okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plugging his phone into the charger, he abandoned it on the nightstand and made his way out to the living room, eager to take the new gaming console for a spin. He would follow up with his messages, and Kuroo, later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two glasses of red wine later and Akaashi was beginning to question his own sanity. Why, absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>did he let Double Trouble</span>
  <span>™</span>
  <span> sign him up for this? They had chosen everything, down to the last detail. They had the most fun selecting the photos to use, as the three pictures were meant to showcase his different sides and interests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first one was of him in a three-piece suit from when he was on television talking about a case that had been extremely high profile. He remembered the interview vividly, as he had been summoned as special counsel and helped assist the DA on a case that put a serial rapist behind bars. That had been a good day for justice, even if the trial had been exceptionally excruciating and followed closely by the media. They fought hard for the victims, and Akaashi never collected a dime for his services. Criminal law wasn’t something he did often, but when found a case that he really connected to, he took it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second photo featured him in a cardigan, thumbnail in his mouth as he was curled up on a wicker chair in front of the firepit on his patio, reading a novel, glasses pulled low on his nose. Tooru had taken the candid one night over the past fall. His two best friends were over for their bi-weekly wine and charcuterie board tasting that doubled as a book club, although Akaashi was frequently the only one who actually read the assigned novels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third picture was also one he didn’t take, as he wasn’t really the type for selfies, especially not ones of this nature. Suga had been the paparazzi this time, a very (entirely too) sexy image of Akaashi pulling himself from the pool, his bare chest exposed, littered with water droplets, his goggles pushed up into his dark hair. It was a little much, honestly, but even the humble man could agree that it was a flattering photo. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>love to swim, so it was only fair to leave that one as a means to showcase his hobbies, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he didn’t have much say over his photos, he did thankfully get some input on his username. After Tooru suggested ‘OnigiriSlut05’, any of his future proposals were immediately shot down. There was absolutely no way in hell he was using an alias like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last, they settled on a compromise: 'Onigiri_at_Law’. It was normal-ish sounding and was kind of cute at the same time, still meeting Oikawa’s insistence that onigiri had to be involved, given Akaahi’s love for the treat. It was silly but he was just a bit too tipsy to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for his bio description, it was simple, something that Sugawara (thankfully) typed up, as Akaashi had no idea what to say about himself. Not that he had a lot of room to type a bunch, but still. The bio was short, sweet, and to the point, devoid of anything incriminating or raunchy, which was a relief. He was a well-known attorney, after all. He didn’t want anything damning to exist about him on the internet, especially since his firm was a partnership with Ushijima. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the easy verification process (and Akaashi feeling very less-than-humble-to-the-point-it-was-embarrassing about having to open his mobile banking app and confirm the dollar amount listed in his checking), he was able to begin scrolling through profiles. Despite the alcohol thrumming in his veins, he felt very self-conscious about the whole ordeal. This was so outside of his comfort zone that it was almost laughable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep down, he knew his two oldest friends had his best interest at heart. He had been single a long time and definitely had been celibate for a lot longer than he liked. Plus, the never-ending barrage of questions from his parents and other colleagues in the community about ‘are you seeing someone’, ‘when will you settle down with a nice man’, ‘did you not bring someone with you?’. He went to charity events, fundraisers, mixers, all without a date. Usually, he just tagged along with the Ushijimas. Once in a blue moon, he met someone interesting and that piqued his interest, but it always fizzled out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, being alone was easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never had to worry about someone else’s schedule or consult with another human before major life decisions. He could be selfish, and no one was around to tell him that that particular character trait was a bad thing. No one was at home to nag him about working too much or scold him for dedicating too much time to the office. He didn’t have to explain to a partner why he was too busy to eat lunch or explain why he hadn’t even had any water to drink because the trial was lasting all damn day. There wasn’t a soul to check in on him, outside of his two best friends who had their own busy lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet somehow, being alone was… lonely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once upon a time, Osamu would drop onigiri by his office several times a week with the excuse that he just wanted to see his lover’s face. In their modest flat, there Osamu would wait, a warm bath ready the moment the lawyer walked in the door, a glass of wine already filled and perched at the edge of the bubbly tub. Throughout the day, an occasional message would come, something encouraging: a friendly reminder to drink something other than coffee, a well-wish for a good day, a kind comment about taking care of himself and remembering to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of that love and consideration and Akaashi had chased him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His selfishness had caused a loving, gentle soul to walk out of his life. They had loved each other, truly, but Akaashi Keiji would always be married to his work. Over time, he had begun to feel some regret for his decision, as best as he tried not to. He was successful, where he always wanted at even such a young age. Sure, leaning on someone for support and having someone to come home to had been wonderful, but it was unfair that he was unable to return those things to a man that really deserved it all and more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Their breakup wasn’t bad. It happened like a slow crack in drywall, growing ever wider over the years, a fault line they left unattended and couldn’t spackle over. And when it ended, there was no drama, no fallout, no big bang or fireworks. It had simply fizzled, and Osamu had made an announcement that he was moving out, and that he wished his long-time partner well. At that time, his heart had been broken, but he knew better than to beg the beautiful black-haired man to stay - had the tables been turned, Akaashi would have left, too. All he could feel for Osamu now, years later, was happiness, the quiet twin having found love with a former classmate, a man Akaashi only vaguely knew as ‘Kita-san’. That time in his life was behind him, and so was the relationship. He could only hope to build from his mistakes and find someone to love again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though while not entirely convinced this was the best way to start, Akaashi continued forward, thumb hovering hesitantly over the menu button of the app. One click was all that separated him from his matches, machine-sorted by an intelligent algorithm. Unsure if this was the best idea, he continued, tapping the screen while turning his head away to sip his wine instead of looking at the results while they loaded - it was all too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little ‘ping’ resounded in the otherwise empty master suite, the notification almost deafening. In his room, he was sealed away from the rest of the world, the heavy curtains drawn tight to block out the bright lights of the Tokyo skyline, to act as a barricade from any noise. All alone, he was curled up underneath a goose-down duvet, questioning his own sanity, wondering where this all would lead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he willed a dark blue eye back down to his phone, the first ‘match’ waiting on the screen. He blinked a moment, unsure of what he was looking at. The image was of a blonde-haired boy with a tongue ring, the young man flashing the particular accessory through a peace sign. It was clear right out the gate by his profile that this ‘baby’ in particular was a bit too boisterous for the temperate lawyer’s tastes. He needed someone mellow, someone quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without thinking too much more of it, he swiped on, flicking through profiles. A few were nice, featuring gorgeous guys with good pictures. Some were his type, others weren’t. Their descriptions were the real deal-breaker, however. If the guy couldn’t spell or use proper punctuation marks, they were vetoed. Maybe that was being overly pretentious or picky, but that was just how he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes passed by of the same thing, the sea of stunning faces starting to blur together, or perhaps that was just his eyelids growing heavier from the late hour, coupled with the copious consumption of wine. He had ‘starred’ a few, but otherwise, hadn't found anyone interesting enough to message. That was okay, no need to get discouraged. After all, it was just the first night, a trial run. Maybe come morning, he would delete the whole app and pretend it never happened, chalking it up to a good laugh for later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or so he thought, his mind coming to a screeching halt when the next profile came up. He felt his breath exit his lungs upon the entrance of ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>OwlBoy04</span>
  </em>
  <span>’, a young man with dual-toned hair styled high on his head, sinfully tight leggings clinging to thick thighs, and gorgeous calves. The way he was angled and standing in the mirror, Akaashi was blessed with a miraculous view of his ass, full and juicy as any Georgia peach. His shirt had been cut, putting absolute fucking pythons for arms on full display, the limbs boasting solid muscle and flawless skin. Given that his shirt was a crop top, Akaashi was able to see the makings of a defined six-pack, the bottom-most abdominals peaking out from beneath a garment that read ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tokyo Uni Volleyball Club</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ across a stupidly broad chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And dear god, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he swiped to the second pic, he was greeted with a pair of gorgeous, golden eyes, flecked with amber and honey. It was only through an LED screen but it was obvious how beautiful they were, framed in dark lashes, the irises touched with genuine joy as he stood on what appeared to be a hiking trail. All around his tall frame was a canopy of trees, the snapshot clearly captured in the height of summer. His blemishless skin had been kissed by the sun and he wore a goofy, yet incredibly charming smile plastered across his much-too-handsome face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other profiles on this app could not compete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck me</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the ravenette groaned, collapsing back into the pillow, closing his eyes. He needed to breathe, gather his thoughts. It would look silly to message him, right? This random guy on some random app? He would look old and desperate and weird, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good god, Keiji, this is a sugar daddy dating app and you’re not sober in the slightest! What pride do you have left?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat in a half-assed attempt to regain composure, he swiped to the last photo. The final image was truly something to behold, as it was so much different than the others. His wild hair was styled down around his face, making him appear older than the ‘22’ listed as his age. His features were soft, a large hand curled around a high-ball whiskey glass. A black, cable-knit sweater complemented his broad physique in a way that was somehow sexier than the leggings that acted as a second skin. Full lips were pulled into an almost shy smile, the large man’s eyes the color of the golden amber liquid in his glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With a deep, grounding breath, he forced his eyes away from the photos to instead focus on the very cute bio listed on the profile:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey hey hey!! I’m Bo! I give a HOOT about owls and so should you!!!! Volleyball is pretty cool, too. Come say hi! :) </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A small giggle left his throat at the pun, a sound he hadn’t heard in a long time. Was that… a flirtatious giggle? Oh god, it was! </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop that, Keiji. You’re better than this. Don’t be a simp!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so it was settled. He was going to have to ‘star’ this guy. No biggie, he has ‘starred’ a couple of others. Why was this different? Maybe it was the unavoidable nervousness pulling at his chest, the idea that if he sent a message, he was really putting himself out there. It was one thing to just exist on the platform and browse profiles, but it was completely different to send a message and open himself up for the possibility of rejection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easy enough. Based on the rules he had reviewed, ‘babies’ could easily block a ‘daddy’ at any time, removing them from their list of candidates. He had to think really hard, come up with something clever and meaningful. Or was that too much? He was a college guy, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>….and about fourteen years younger</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would a simple ‘hey’ suffice? ‘Hello?’ ‘How are you?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. This called for more wine and a lot more brainpower than he had at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To say that these graphics were freaking sick was an understatement. The new console, plus the 5K TV that came with it, made him feel like the swing of the hero’s sword was actually happening in real life, coming through the television set with each mighty blow. The landscape was breathtaking, featuring rolling hills and tall, snow-capped mountains with raging rivers and all the badass and really creepy skeleton characters he could slay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was definitely fun playing an unreleased game, the giddiness of knowing he was experiencing something that so few others had. No cheat codes existed, no mods, nothing had been altered. It was virtually bug-free and the soundtrack was absolutely fire. The controls were easy enough to navigate, the storyline simple to follow but still with an interesting plot, and not to mention, the powerups were next level. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, the novelty of it quickly wore off when he looked around the apartment and realized he had no one to share it with. If there was one thing Bokuto loved, it was talking. That was part of the experience, sharing it all. Sure, he and Kuroo would play later, but for now, he would just save his progress and wait for his best friend - it would be so much more fun that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a yawn and quick stretch of his long limbs, he abandoned the controller and turned off the television. In the fridge, the last bit of cheesecake from that fancy restaurant Kuroo went to with his sugar daddy was calling his name. With a quick open and close of the door, and fishing the only clean fork from the drawer, he meandered back to his room with his styrofoam container of the desert balanced in one hand. It was well after 2 a.m., and he needed to get some shut-eye if he was going to make it to practice tomorrow afternoon and be fully functional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flicking on the bedside lamp, he settled onto the bed, eager for his nightly routine: watching stupid shit on TikTok until the wee hours of the morning. As he shoveled the first bite of dessert into his mouth, he unlocked his screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sweet Tooth! - You have 35 new messages</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Needless to say, he dropped his fork directly on his bed out of sheer disbelief. Thirty-five messages? From potential sugar daddies? He felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hurriedly, he opened the app, struggling to register exactly what all of the notifications meant. This many guys had contacted him in the matter of two-ish hours? He hadn’t even scrolled through himself, simply uploaded his profile, and left to play his new game. Was this real life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the menu loaded, he quickly tapped over to the envelope icon, each individual message popping up in a layered list. It was sorted from most recent to last, and Bokuto took his time reviewing each one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some were… less than appetizing. The age gap was way too high for his taste on a few of them, so he popped off a very sincere ‘thank you, but I’m not interested’ message before nixing the profile - it wasn’t personal or anything, just wasn’t what he was looking for (no that he knew exactly what he was looking for, he just knew that wasn’t it). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, some dudes were straight-up creepy and their messages caused his stomach to churn. Sure, he uploaded a sexy shot, but that didn’t mean that he deserved such raunchy messages featuring offers to ‘show that cake who’s boss’. Those guys were instantly blocked, Bokuto fighting the urge to tell them to go take a long walk off of a short pier before actually doing the blocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the fourteenth message, he stumbled across the most polite message he had yet to receive. The correspondence came from someone who went by the username ‘Onigiri_at_Law’. From the thumbnail, he looked much younger than some of the other ‘daddies’ who he had sifted through thus far.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bo-san, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good evening. I hope you are well. I just wanted to drop you a message and tell you that I personally really like owls myself. Have you been to the aviary north of Tokyo? They feature about fifty different breeds of owls, as well as other birds. If you haven’t been, you should go some time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. - I graduated from Tokyo University, too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~A</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was sincere, well-thought-out, and above all else, this dude liked owls, too. Chuckling at the formality of the message, he clicked on the profile, curious to learn more about this ‘Onigiri_at_Law’. What awaited him was something completely unexpected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were blessed with the image of a dark-haired man who appeared a tad too young to be on the app. The guy looked so distinguished, decked out in an expensive navy blue suit that brought out the rich cerulean color of his eyes, visible even behind his glasses. Judging by the way that he was standing and the setting of the photo, he came across as someone of importance. Clearly, it was an interview of some kind, microphones present just at the corner of the frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swiping to the next image, he viewed what looked to be a moment of downtime, the gorgeous creature curled up in front of a fire, reading a thick book. This time, his glasses were resting on the edge of his nose, the orange tone of the fire bathing his lean body in an amber glow. There was an air of sophistication to him, his whole being otherworldly. Bokuto swallowed thickly at the sight of long fingers splayed over the spine of his book, elegant and alluring, just like the person they belonged to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And finally, Boktuo realized that this man had buried the lead and underneath that suit was something he hadn’t imagined. Popping out of some indoor pool, this Onigiri_at_Law was wearing nothing but the leg skins he had been swimming in. Even then, just the waistband was visible over the concrete lip of the pool. Two long arms were stick straight, hardly strained at the effort it took to pull his long, lean frame from the water. Raven black hair was wet, a pair of high-end goggles pushed into the damp locks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the most striking thing of all was the expression he wore on his face. Bokuto had seen that look before several times, mostly, on his own face. It was a look of sheer bliss, as though this swimmer had touched freedom, found effortless release in the endorphins brought on by doing something he loved. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Serene</span>
  </em>
  <span>- that was perhaps the most accurate descriptor of all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it made Bokuto’s heart pound in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, his bio was short and simple, but still a true testament to his personality:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No matter what other people may say, we are the protagonists of the world. We forge the life we lead, so make it a good one.’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a second thought, the volleyball player clicked to return the message, typing out a reply he hoped was sufficient, given his state of both exhaustion and bewitchment, absolutely enthralled by the man on the screen.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please drop me a note with your thoughts, they mean so much! Please stay happy and healthy as we go into the new year, and know that I love and appreciate you all. Seriously, you're the best!! </p><p>Also yes, Akashi's bio is straight from the series with a line I added with it. I thought Bo would find it inspirational (for some reason? ;) lol!) </p><p>Next time: a date</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dragon Roll</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone!! Thank you so much for your kind comments and feedback on the first two chapters! I am so excited to bring you another update. :) I have had COVID for about a week now and I'm slowly starting to recover. I really wanted to bring you an update, though, and I hope you enjoy it! I apologize for the brevity of the dinner scene. Anyway, I'll see you at the bottom for more notes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Hey hey hey! Wow, I can’t believe u messaged me!!! The fact you like owls too is awesome. I haven’t been to that aviary, but it looks cool! Btw, you are really beautiful. Sorry if that’s weird - I just wanted you to know that you are gorgeous. How are you today, btw?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Akaashi blinked down at his phone, brain caught somewhere in a miasma of disbelief and the thick fog brought on by his hangover. Did that sculpted hottie really message him back? And say he was beautiful? And sound so nice?</p><p>Wait, better question: <em> did he seriously fucking sign up for a sugar dating app?! </em></p><p>With a breathless sigh, he collapsed back into his pillow, staring up at the white ceiling above. It was still early for him to be awake, especially for a Saturday, but he couldn’t find it in himself to go back to sleep. His heart was hammering in his chest at even the <em> thought </em>of corresponding with such a young, hot, athletic, toned--</p><p><em> Keiji! </em>He scolded himself and pinched his eyes shut. There was no way he could do this, not while he was still hungover. Surely, he was an absolute madman. What was in his wine, vodka? It had to be for him to make such a hair-brained decision.  </p><p>Pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he decided the only thing he could do was fall back on his routine, his safety net. Saturdays weren’t that fundamentally different from the regular workweek, as it still included swimming laps up at the pool and yes, he still usually did some case prep or went over notes. Ushijima told him not to worry about anything on the weekend that wasn’t urgent, but to Akaashi, everything about his job felt extremely important. The idea of putting off a task until Monday was maddening and made him feel anxious. </p><p>Without responding to the message from the potential sugar baby, he made his way to the bathroom to start his routine. After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he changed into his speedo leg skins, goggles, and a hoodie, before making his way up the top floor pool. The whir of the elevator was relaxing, Akaashi taking just a moment to close his eyes as he leaned up against the cool metal behind his back. </p><p>It was no secret to anyone who knew him that Akaashi lived inside his own head. His ability to think and assess every angle was a key trait needed in the courtroom, no doubt about it. However, when it came to his own personal life, it was sometimes tortuous. It was something he did even before college, but after finally becoming an attorney, it was even harder to turn it off. Over time, he had honed a natural skill and turned it into a force to be reckoned with.</p><p>Thankfully, the lap pool was empty, the sunrise of a new day barely breaching over the city skyline and filtering through the massive picture windows that lined the far wall. With practiced ease, he pulled off his hoodie, tossing it to its normal spot on an empty deck chair. After a few quick stretches, touching his toes, butterfly touches of his arms, and snapping his goggles down over his eyes, he was in the water. What occupied his mind wasn’t the case notes he needed to work once he was upstairs, or finalizing his grocery order for the week. Rather, it fell on what exactly he was going to say back to that gorgeous college student.</p><p>*</p><p>“Bo!! You’re late!” Hinata hollered at him in that nervous voice he took on only when Coach was super pissed about something. Namely, tardiness. Or shenanigans. Usually, Bokuto was plenty responsible for the latter.</p><p>“I know, I know,” the ace said dismissively with a wave of his hand, sauntering out of the locker room with his shoes half tied. “I overslept!”</p><p>Suna Rintouro regarded him with a disinterested side-eye, a water bottle clutched in his fist. Given the beads of sweat already presented on his forehead, Boktuo was more than just a <em> little </em>late. “You’re the captain,” he deadpanned, “and you missed the first round of drills.”</p><p>“I--” but his protests died in his throat as a resounding <em> Bokuto Koutarou! </em>bellowed across the gym, the harshness of it bouncing off the pristine wooden floor.</p><p>“<em> Shit! </em>” he hissed before he turned around on his heel, trying his best to whip up his infamous charming smile despite knowing damn well it wouldn’t work on Coach Tachibana. “What can I do for you, sir?”</p><p>“To start with - diving laps, twenty, go!” the big man barked, pointing his finger at the open practice court. “Then when you’re done there, get your ass back here and show Goshinki how to spike.”</p><p>Knowing better than to sigh, but still deflating a little, Bokuto nodded his head and went to work. By the tenth one, his chest was sore from acting as a floor mop, and by the final one, he was panting and breathless. But he earned it - after sending that message late last night, he called Kuroo and had a borderline emotional breakdown. <em> What if the guy never responds back?! </em> He knew he should have consulted Kuroo prior to actually sending the message in the first place, but he had been too excited and blurted all the initial thoughts that came out of his over-zealous brain. <em> What the fuck!! </em></p><p>He had to shake it off - practice was too important. Even without his scholarship, it didn’t matter. Leading his team to victory was key, especially here in his senior year. There was so much to do: skills to sharpen and serves to perfect and drills to master. As much as humanly possible, he focused on practice and the tasks on hand. Despite losing out on sleep, and the grueling round of floor dives, he was able to have a solid afternoon. Once focused on volleyball, it was hard to peel Bokuto away. Determination was always on his side.</p><p>“Why were you so late, Captain?!” Hinata asked once the team was safely tucked inside the locker room. </p><p>Pulling his practice jersey off, he gave a small laugh. “I stayed up too late last night. I was playing a new video game.”</p><p>“Is that all?” the team’s libero, Nishinoya, inquired, one his brows hiked high on his forehead. </p><p>Suddenly, Bokuto felt a surge of guilt in his stomach. How did they know? Was it written on his face? Oh god, had Kuroo told them about Sweet Tooth, too?!</p><p>“Uh, I--” he stumbled, feeling his face flush.</p><p>“Did you stay up talking to a girl?” Goshinki asked, running his fingers through his sweaty, dark fringe.</p><p>“A guy?” Hinata added, basically vibrating in place. </p><p>With a defeated groan, Bokuto collapsed onto the concrete bench, the cold stone doing wonders for his overheated body. “Is it that obvious?” He was genuinely curious. </p><p>“You’re an open book,” Kageyama deadpanned from his spot in front of his own locker, towel around his waist, an indication he was heading to the showers. “And you’re usually more responsible than staying up just for video games... that would be idiotic, even for you.”</p><p>“I’m responsible?” Bokuto asked, perking up, pulling himself to sit upright.</p><p>“Of course that’s the only word you heard,” the tall setter huffed with an exaggerated roll of his cerulean eyes.</p><p>“So who is this person?” Noya pushed further.</p><p>“Just… someone,” Bokuto answered shyly, pawing at the back of his neck. “It’s too new to really talk about much.”</p><p>With a sweet smile and encouraging pat on the ace’s back, Hinata assured his captain. “That’s okay, Bokuto-san. Just take care of yourself!”</p><p>“And stop being late to practice,” Suna instructed.</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, fishing his phone from his bag. Thankfully, that answer seemed to suffice as his teammates went back to their post-practice ritual. Though once he unlocked his screen, Bokuto felt his heart race in a way that more intense than anything floor dives could elicit. </p><p>
  <em> Sweet Tooth! - 1 New Message from Onigiri_at_Law </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bo-san, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you very much for your compliment, you are very sweet. You are quite handsome yourself, just so you are aware. I am doing fine. I did some laps at the pool this morning, and after a shower and breakfast, I started on some work to get ahead for Monday. How about you? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ~ A </em>
</p><p>Bokuto took a deep breath to try to steady his nerves, but he could do nothing to govern the huge smile on his face. After all, the beautiful man had messaged him back. </p><p>*</p><p>“Just send the message, Aka-chan! What are you worried about?” Oikawa questioned from over the lawyer’s speakerphone, the man in question nibbling at an onigiri. It was filled with spicy tuna and he may or may have had it delivered from his favorite establishment in the world, Onigiri Miya. He always ordered under an alias because despite him being over his ex, he would never be over his food. And there was no shame in that. </p><p>Akaashi tapped the counter with a blunt nail and let out a heavy sigh. “I am worried about sounding stupid.”</p><p>“Stupid?!” the brunette balked from across the line. “Darling, you are the smartest man I know -- oh god, don’t tell Ushiwaka-chan I said that. He doesn’t look like he has feelings, but he does. The damn brute.” He lovingly added the last sentence under his breath.</p><p>“There is a difference between being good at academics and being social. I am not cut out for this, I think.” He took another humongous bite of his food, filling his cheeks like some sort of chipmunk. It was just a simple message, right? It would be, except for a total hunk had called him ‘beautiful’, and he still couldn’t wrap his brain around that.</p><p>“Aka-chan, you’re overthinking this. He called you beautiful because he has two functioning eyes in his skull. Nothing more, nothing less. Just reply and be yourself-- yes, I’m coming, hang on! - Sorry, I have to get into this massage now. But I’ll text the group chat later to follow up.”</p><p>At that prospect, he shivered. The group chat was just the three of them, Akaashi, Oikawa, and Suga, but those two were a menace when left to the power of gifs and memes. If he hadn’t made a move in about two hours when Oikawa was finished at the spa, he would be in for some brutal teasing. </p><p>“Okay, enjoy your massage,” the lawyer offered.</p><p>“I always do, Aka-chan. Good luck!” With that, the line disconnected, and Akaashi was left to his own devices. Mainly, the device in his hand that was just waiting for him to tap out some sort of reply. Without the confidence booster (or fogger) of wine, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. </p><p>But overthinking was getting him nowhere. </p><p>After typing up something safe sounding, and thanking the man for his compliment, he fired off the message with the intention of hopefully keeping the conversation going. Nothing made Akaashi feel more boring than describing his lackluster day, but alas, it was the truth. All he could hope for now was a reply.</p><p>Setting his phone face down on the counter, he rose from his spot at the island bar and made his way over to the sink to rinse out his tea mug. Just another menial task to help busy his mind. When that was complete, he padded over to the television to flip on the news. Something or another was happening at the American stock market, and Akaashi let himself play catch up. After a few minutes, he lost interest in that, too, and continued over a V-League match on TV. His former ‘brother-in-law's’ (Akaashi would affectionately always dub Miya Atsumu as that) team was playing. Where he once was a player, he was now the assistant coach to the MSBY Black Jackals. The Jackals were up and currently handing the Toray Arrows their asses on a silver platter.</p><p>“Good job, ‘Tsumu,” Akaashi whispered with a soft smile. Truly, he was proud of Atsumu, and the blonde had even mailed over an invite to his and Sakusa’s wedding last year. Respectfully, Akaashi had declined, though he had sent a substantial gift in his place. It wasn’t that he was afraid to see Osamu. The opposite, actually. He was scared at how much he wanted to see him and wish him well. Not out of longing, but out of the heartfelt friendship they had once shared. The decline in invitation stemmed from the fact that Osamu deserved to be the best man and have Kita-san as his date, uninterrupted or distracted, and that was the end of it. </p><p>A distraction from the game came in the form of his phone vibrating to life, the little chime of a notification snapping his attention from the game. With bated breath, he returned to the counter, regarding his phone as though it held the secrets to the universe. After a micro-pep talk and a borderline hyperventilation episode, he reached down and opened the message. Immediately, a smile split his face in two.</p><p>
  <em> Wow, u really think I’m handsome?! That just made my whole day! :) :) :)  Do you swim every day? I love the pic of u swimming. O - but I’m not trying to be weird! I just think u look beautiful even doing that! U sound like a super busy guy. Make sure to take breaks too. I just got done at volleyball practice. I’m starving!  </em>
</p><p>Akaashi blinked down at his phone, his heart racing in his chest. Was it too early to ask this Bo out on a date? Just a casual meet up? That was what they were supposed to do, right? It’s not like this app came with a manual or a rulebook, necessarily. But the whole idea was to go on a date and not just correspond over text. So it was stupid to not ask.</p><p>Before he could overthink it and chicken out, the young lawyer typed out words he thought he’d never say to someone he had only exchanged a total of four text messages with and never met IRL, let alone without knowing their full name. All he knew was that if ‘Bo’ was hungry, Akaashi wanted to feed him. </p><p>
  <em> If you’re hungry, would you like to meet for dinner? My treat, of course. </em>
</p><p>There wasn’t time for him to panic over his uncharacterized boldness because it took the beefcake sugar baby mere seconds to reply with an enthusiastic ‘<em> hell yeah! Where?’ </em>.</p><p>...Where indeed?</p><p>*</p><p>Bokuto was basically vibrating in place. He hadn’t the faintest idea of what to wear to an upscale sushi place in Harajuku, but he put on the nicest dark wash jeans he owned, a black button-down shirt, and a nice blazer that fit snug across his broad shoulders. On Facetime, Kuroo had assured him it looked, quote, ‘fucking awesome’, and even Kenma offered a thumbs up in approval, only barely removing his eyes from some sort of game console. It was nice to be reassured, but it still didn’t feel like enough.</p><p>After agreeing to food, they had exchanged a few more texts, getting a lock on the basics. His date was named Akaashi Keiji, and it turned out he was a lawyer. There was a bit of nervousness about meeting up with a stranger, though once he revealed his date’s identity to Kuroo and Kenma, the video game entrepreneur had mentioned knowing him and vouched for him, and that was enough. Which was good, because everything within the ace fought Googling him in advance. Not only did it feel a bit rude and invasive, but also, he knew that the internet wasn’t always the most accurate place for information anyway. </p><p>It was cold out that evening, snow threatening to fall from the sky. But still, Bokuto waited outside. He wanted to make a good impression and hold the door for his date. It was a date, right? Or whatever? That was the whole point of the app, yeah? He had no idea last night when he signed up that he’d actually be meeting a Sugar Daddy the very next day. In fact, he didn’t think he would meet one at all. </p><p>Nervously, Bokuto shuffled his weight from one foot to the next and buried his hands in his jeans pocket to keep warm. He hadn’t worn a coat because he thought it would clash with his outfit, and now he was freezing. That was okay, he looked cool still, right? He tried to focus on the smoke rings he made with his breath in the cold air and not the numbness in his fingers.</p><p>The shutting of a car door caught his attention as a dark-haired man stepped out of a sleek, black sedan, clearly some sort of upscale cab service. Whatever oxygen was left in his lungs quickly evaporated, turning to smokey whispers in the winter air as the man waved the cab on. </p><p>As he approached, Bokuto noted his elegant walk, the man appearing light on his feet. Plus, he was tall, so much taller than Bokuto was expecting. Sure, he wasn’t as large as the ace, but he was by no means small. There was a maturity to the way he moved, his long legs looking all longer in his checkered dress pants, tapered at his ankles, showcasing a shiny black pair of oxfords. On top, he wore a long black pea coat and a soft-looking mustard scarf. The sharp color of his blue eyes was piercing, even in the fluorescent lights coming from the storefronts. In a word, he was beautiful. Perhaps Bokuto knew better fitting vocabulary than that, but none that he could summon at the moment, not while he was so bewitched.</p><p>“Bokuto-san?” he inquired, voice smooth and rich like velveteen whiskey. Even his tone was sensual, and he had only said the ace’s name. </p><p>“Uh, y-yes,” he stuttered out, amazed at both Akaashi’s beauty and his own lack of governance on his mouth. When did he lose the ability to control fine motor functions? (Probably when Akaashi Keiji exited his vehicle.)</p><p>“It is nice to meet you,” Akaashi offered a shy smile, and somehow, he was more alluring in person. Was this guy seriously 36?! Bokuto didn’t believe it, not with skin like that. He would pass for 25 on his worst day. “I am Akaashi Keiji.” While they had introduced their names via text, it was only polite to reintroduce themselves now that they were in person.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Akaashi-san.” Bokuto offered a small bow, and the lawyer giggled. </p><p>“You are very polite.” </p><p>“Thank you,” he stated, though he wasn’t entirely sure of his volume control. Thank god they were outdoors where it was less noticeable.</p><p>“Should we go in?” the older man asked, tilting his head toward the door.</p><p>“Oh! Of course, allow me.” With his long legs, he made quick strides to the heavy, painted door. The outside read ‘Wasabi Sushi &amp; Bar’ in elegant kanji. </p><p>“Thank you,” the brunette offered yet again as he stepped into the restaurant. Bokuto could have sworn he saw a faint blush warming the lawyer’s cheeks, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent certain. All he could do was stand there, the door propped, struggling to remember his own name. Was this real life? Had he truly landed such a marvelous creature to go to dinner with? Even if that’s all that ever came out of it, he felt truly blessed.</p><p>“Are you coming?” he called over his shoulder, a manicured eyebrow arching high on his head. </p><p>Swallowing thickly, Bokuto nodded, following suit.</p><p>*</p><p>“We have a reservation under Akaashi,” the lawyer told the hostess, a small woman who was tapping away on an iPad. </p><p>“Ah, yes. Akaashi-sama, welcome!” she greeted with a near-90-degree bow. “We have been expecting you.”</p><p>“Please, just ‘san’ is fine,” he assured the woman with a wave of his hand. From next to him, Bokuto’s beautiful golden eyes were glued to the floor to ceiling salt-water fish tank. Inside, a variety of bright, tropical creatures floated around the aquarium, looking iridescent beneath the color-changing lights.</p><p>“Very well, Akaashi-san. Would you like your usual booth?”</p><p>“That would be lovely, thank you.”</p><p>“Very well, please follow me.” She led the duo along toward the back of the restaurant. It was a bit quieter, away from the bar, just how the attorney preferred it. If there were going to be negotiations for payment between him and his… <em> companion, </em> he didn’t want anyone to overhear and misconstrue. Or even worse, overhear and understand completely. </p><p>As they walked, he could feel the younger man’s gaze on him the whole time, and it made him very self-conscious. Was he checking him out? Or rethinking his life choices? Akaashi wasn’t sure and was too afraid to turn around and confirm. </p><p>“Here you are, sir. May I take your jacket?” the hostess offered.</p><p>“Oh, of course,” but before he could move to shrug them off, Bokuto was behind him, hands on his shoulders, pinching the fabric of the coat. It slid off with ease as his date pulled it down. With calculated intention, Akaashi had worn his best Armani cologne, and he hoped that the scent was doing its job.</p><p>Once the coat and scarf were in the hostess’s hands and the menus were placed on the table, the men slid into the booth opposite from each other. The lawyer had chosen a place that was familiar to him, somewhere he wouldn’t feel too anxious. He knew just what to order, what his favorite drink was, and even how quickly the food would be paced so it ensured there wouldn’t be a lull in the conversation. Should they run out of suitable topics, as tended to happen on first dates, he could keep up by discussing the food. It was perfect - Akaashi had complete control over the situation.</p><p>“Wow, this food is expensive!”</p><p>Akaashi felt himself flush as he peered up over the brim of his menu. Other than the walk up from the car, this was his first opportunity to really look at his date. He was tall and broad, and his smoke gray blazer pulled taut across his massive shoulders. He was certainly every bit as stunning in real life as he was through the images on the phone. Dual-toned hair stood up straight as if reaching for the heavens, styled in a way that was meant to be cool and eccentric (and truly was). Everything about it screamed ‘young’ and ‘energetic’ and Akaashi never felt older. Did he really have any right to be here with such a stunning, youthful hunk?</p><p>“Order anything you like,” he replied simply. Nothing on the menu would break his bank whatsoever, nor put a drop in the bucket for his dining out budget. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Bokuto whispered, leaning forward. God, was he adorable. This wasn’t even the fanciest place Akaashi frequented, it was just his go-to for sushi. How would the college student react if he had taken him to a place that was actually exclusive? Sure, they greeted him by name here, but he wasn’t Kozume Kenma, for Christ’s sake. Besides, as far as restaurants went, he just ate at all the old places Osamu had made him love.</p><p>“Of course, it’s no issue.”</p><p>“Good evening, gentleman. My name is Sakura and I will be your server. Can I start you off with something to drink?”</p><p>“I’ll have a glass of water, please, and we’ll take a bottle of top-shelf sake, please.” Yes, Akaashi was ordering a drink to help soothe his anxiety. No biggie.</p><p>The woman scribbled down on her notepad and turned to the other man. “And for you?”</p><p>“Oh, uh, just a water for me, too, please.” </p><p>“I will be right back,” she said with a quick nod before turning on her heel.</p><p>“What do you normally get here?” his date asked, flipping through the pages. </p><p>“My favorite is the fried eel with caviar. It’s quite good.” As a habit, he softly wrung his hands, pulling at his fingers. No matter how hard he tried, it was just one little tick he couldn’t shake. </p><p>“Oh wow, you can order something called a dragon roll. That sounds awesome!”</p><p>Akaashi smiled. “I think they set that one on fire.”</p><p>His golden eyes bulged in his skull. “For real?!”</p><p>“Here is your drinks, gentleman,” the waitress stated as she sat down to glasses of water and a bottle of sake with two empty sake cups. “Are you ready to order?”</p><p>Akaashi made quick work with ordering his usual: a dish of edamame, a bowl of miso soup, and of course, his fried eel with caviar. Bokuto, however, was not lying when he had told the older man he was hungry. His order consisted of edamame, fried rice, a dragon roll, a tuna and yellowfin roll, as well as several other rolls with clever, creative names. It sounded like a lot of food, but based on the fact his date was a 22-year-old college athlete, he had zero doubts that Bokuto would eat it all.</p><p>“Would you like a glass?” Akaashi offered, holding up the bottle of sake.</p><p>“Oh, sure. Just one would be okay for me,” Bokuto nodded, body language still a bit stiff. If this gorgeous, young guy was anxious, what did that mean for Akaashi?</p><p>*</p><p>Internally, Bokuto was panicking. Screaming, even. All of that nervous energy was leaving his body in the form of a bouncing left leg and a mouth that would not stop running. With those intense, azure eyes, the young college athlete felt like he was going to break. On the surface, they seemed calculating and cold, but there was a warmth underneath them, boiling just below the icy waters. How Bokuto longed to find more about what was waiting there.</p><p>“How long have you been playing volleyball?” the man asked, pulling at his dark turtle neck. </p><p>“I started playing when I was in elementary school! It was something I knew I loved right away.”</p><p>“What position do you play?”</p><p>“The ace, of course!” Out of habit, he flexed a little while also flashing a wide grin. Thankfully, it seemed to prompt his date to smile. “I am also the captain, so that’s cool. But I don’t wear the number one. I am number four! I don’t know why, it just seemed cooler to me.”</p><p>“You must be very good to be the captain.”</p><p>Shyly, Bokuto chuckled, pawing at the back of his neck. “I mean, I guess. I hope to go into the V-League once I’m done with school. But we’ll see.”</p><p>“The V-League?” Akaashi repeated, a questioning lilt in his voice.</p><p>Enthusiastically, Bokuto nodded. “Yeah! My favorite team is the Black Jackals. The Schewiden Adlers are cool, too, but I have always looked up to Sakusa Kiyoomi. It’s a shame he’s retired now.”</p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>“Ack!” he sputtered, holding up a hand. “I am sorry, I am talking so much about myself. When did you become a lawyer?”</p><p>“That’s quite alright, I don’t mind talking about your interests. But I’m afraid my journey to becoming an attorney is less than entertaining.”</p><p>With a flirtatious wink, he challenged his date. “Try me.”</p><p>He listened closely as Akaashi spoke about himself, his tone was much softer and quieter than his own. Their appetizers came out, and still, he listened as they ate. Akaashi was as truly every bit as smart as he dressed. As it turned out, the older man had graduated from Tokyo University for his undergraduate degree in pre-law, all while being a record-breaking swimmer on the college’s swim team. After a torn rotator cuff, the Olympics were off the table, so he went to law school instead. </p><p>“A torn rotator cuff? Wow! Did you have to have surgery?”</p><p>“I did, yeah,” he explained after a bite of his soup. “But that’s okay. My parents really wanted me to go to law school, so I guess it was meant to be.”</p><p>It was at that moment that a server brought out a flaming plate, keeping the menu true to its word. In amazement, Bokuto couldn’t keep his mouth closed. “Wow!” he exclaimed as the fiery dish was set down. It was a colorful roll, and the oil around the rim had been set on fire. Clearly, it was just for show, but still, it was pretty damn awesome.</p><p>“Lean back, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi instructed with a humorous smirk. “You’ll catch your eyebrows on fire.”</p><p>Instinctively, his hand flew up to the brows in question, earning him yet another light-hearted giggle from his companion. Maybe Bokuto would set them on fire for real just to hear the dark-haired man’s genuine, unfiltered laugh. </p><p>“Man, this all looks delicious!” he rubbed his hands together and eyed the many trays before him. “Where do I start?”</p><p>“Just make sure you enjoy,” Akaashi assured him, picking up his own chopsticks.</p><p>Once they started eating earnestly, conversation wasn’t a priority, at least not for Bokuto. And thankfully, his date didn’t seem to mind. He was enjoying his own meager portion of food. Every once in a while, he would ask what was in the ace’s food, and with gusto, Bokuto would describe the flavors and textures in detail. It was so comfortable, talking to Akaashi. At first, he was worried that their age or social gap would stifle things, but the lawyer wasn’t uptight, not like he imagined. Sure, he was quiet and reserved, nothing wrong with that. However, he came across as laid back, and despite how muted they were, his laughs were genuine and encouraging.</p><p>By the time their full bottle of sake was empty and so was their plates, the ace couldn’t shake the feeling that he known Akaashi for more than just a day. He was even funny in a way that wasn’t boisterous or loud but complemented his own sense of humor. He couldn’t help but wonder if his date felt the same way? </p><p>However, when the ticket came, Bokuto was quickly reminded of the nature of their arrangement. When a black credit card came out of his Hugo Boss wallet and was set down without even sparing a glance at the final price, Bokuto felt a heaviness in his chest. He knew what was coming next.</p><p>“So, Bokuto-san,” the lawyer began, shifting a little in his seat. The waitress had just left with his card. “I suppose we should have a discussion.”</p><p>Suddenly, the ace wished he still had a pair of chopsticks to keep his hands busy. “Okay,” he swallowed thickly.  He didn’t know he would be this uncomfortable. When he had spoken to Kuroo, he should have gotten some insight on how he went about the money talk with Kenma.</p><p>“I don’t know how to go about this, honestly,” he began, clearing his throat. “But I would like to continue on with our… arrangement. I would be happy to even pay you for this evening. Just let me know what your expectations are, and I will do my best to meet them.” At some point in his speech, he had shifted over into what Bokuto could only describe as ‘lawyer-mode’, his body language taking on a completely different quality than before. There was the same confidence that he had witnessed when the older man first approached him out front.</p><p>“Ah, well,” he started, mind reeling. What did he even begin to ask for? “I um, just need some helping paying for school.”</p><p>“For school? Do you not have a sports scholarship?”</p><p>At that, the beefy captain explained how he was a physical therapy major, but so far, the upper-level math was kicking his ass. With his part time job as an assistant manager at a local sports store, he didn’t really have time to go tutoring, but he still needed to pay for his apartment he shared with Kuroo. The entire time, he was embarrassed. Nothing made him feel worse about himself than discussing his grades. </p><p>“So you need an allowance to cover school, a tutor, and your apartment, correct?” Across from him, Akaashi lightly drummed his fingers on the tabletop. It didn’t come across as impatient, though, more like he was thinking, doing calculations.</p><p>“Yeah, I suppose. I mean, I like my job… a lot! And I love the discount on knee pads because boy, do I run through ‘em. It’s just… a lot. And I have three younger sisters and it’s a lot for my parents to support, so I can’t ask them for help…” his voice trailed off as he thought of the trio of little girls who lit up his world. </p><p>“So would two hundred thousand yen a month suffice?”</p><p>“P-pardon?!” Bokuto balked, no control over the surprise in his voice.</p><p>“Well, that would be enough, wouldn’t it? No matter, I could--”</p><p>Bokuto held up his hands. “No, no! That would be plenty, thank you.”</p><p>“Alright.” Akaashi folded his hands together, and at that moment, his credit card returned on a little tray. He left a tip and swirl of a signature before returning the card to his wallet. “Two hundred thousand yen a month, but I will also buy you anything you need for volleyball, all of your groceries, and I will set up the tutor for you. I will pay for them separately as well. When we go out, please know that I will pick up the ticket.”</p><p>Dumbly, the ace could only nod, his mouth still hanging open. </p><p>“If there is something that comes up, just let me know.”</p><p>“Sure, of course.”</p><p>Akaashi smiled and leaned back into the booth. “I am glad to hear it. I will work up a formal contract and give it to you next time we meet. How often do you want to meet up?”</p><p><em> As often as possible </em>, is what he wanted to say. However, in an effort to keep cool, he answered, “whenever is fine with me.”</p><p>“Does once a week sound okay?”</p><p>“Of course.” It sounded more than okay.</p><p>“Alright. Well, I have a special company charity dinner next week. I know it’s short notice, but can you be there?”</p><p>“So long as I don’t have a game, I can be anywhere.”</p><p>Another soft smile. “Wonderful. Do you have a suit?” When the ace shook his head ‘no’, the lawyer continued, “that’s alright. I’ll arrange a time for you to go get fitted for one or two. If you’re headed to the V-League, you’ll need them for interviews and such. And I’m guessing by your stature, you’re not a one-size-fits all.” The almost hungry look in the other man’s eye told Bokuto that was supposed to be a compliment, so he took it as one. “Anyway, I have kept you long enough. Would you like to head out?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>With that, they slid from the booth and headed back toward the entrance. This time, however, Bokuto didn’t just walk behind the man, he walked beside him. From this angle, it was all the clearer that he was only just a little taller. Once they reached the front, the hostess handed over Akaashi’s coat, and duitfilly, Bokuto helped him into it.</p><p>“Bokuto-san, did you not wear a coat?” he asked as they stepped out into the frigid night air. Somehow, it had gotten even colder since before they had dinner.</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t have one that matched my dress outfit,” he admitted a bit sheepishly, staring down at his polished shoes. “I only have my sports jackets and stuff.”</p><p>“Are you walking back to the train?” his date asked, dipping his head to meet Bokuto’s eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, I am.”</p><p>“Can I offer you a ride?”</p><p>To that, Bokuto shook his head. He had to decline the kind offer, as the lawyer had already done too much for him, and he felt too spoiled as it was. Besides, with how hot his face felt, a cool, crisp walk to the train was well-needed. “That’s okay, Akaashi-san. I am going to make a few stops on my way home and I don’t want to hold you up.”</p><p>“Alright, well then, please take this.” Due to the nature of their meet-up, Bokuto was expecting him to pull out his wallet and hand over slips of money that he would only try to reject. However, much to his pleasure, the lawyer removed his mustard scarf and wrapped it around the ace’s neck. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”</p><p>The scent that found him was fresh and light, bergamot and mint, with a hint of citrus. It was lovely, like a spring breeze - much needed in the freezing November night. “Oh, thank you,” he nearly whispered, face turning even more heated. Yep, he would need a crisp cold walk just to make his cheeks return to a normal color.</p><p>“You’re welcome, Bokuto-san. May I have your phone?” Scrambling into his pocket, he produced the device for his date. “There, you have my number now. Please text me when you get home so I know that you’ve made it there safely.  And also, send your Venmo details as well as your game, school, and practice schedule. I just want to be sure I find a tutor who fits around your needs.”</p><p>“Sure.” His mind was literally moving at a hundred miles an hour and that’s the only word he could formulate. </p><p>“Alright, goodnight, Bokuto-san. Get some rest.” He gave a quick bow and his beautiful eyes pinched a bit in the corner as he smiled. </p><p>“Goodnight,” Bokuto whispered into the thin air. People passed him on the street, though the ace paid them no mind, nor the fact that his bulk was taking up the sidewalk. His focus was solely on the confident gait of the man who just left his space, the lawyer retreating to where the same black sedan from earlier was waiting. He only continued to stand there in awe, staring as the car pulled away.</p><p>Truly, Bokuto began to wonder what he was actually getting himself into.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you again so much for reading, commenting, leaving a kudos or bookmark. It is very touching! I hope this chapter was okay, our boys finally met! I know it was a bit awkward, but it's bound to be the first time you meet the love of your lif-- I MEAN your sugar daddy/baby lol! I promise, more shenanigans are on the way.</p><p>Love to you all!! Take care of yourself. :) </p><p>*my husband's favorite dish at sushi is the dragon roll they light on fire lmao. He is such a dork!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Coffee Coincidence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone!! Thank you so much for the kind comments on this story! All of your love means so much to me. This is my first time writing BokuAka after loving the ship for so long, and I just hope I am doing these two guys justice. See you at the bottom for more notes!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Akaashi lowered himself into the leather seat, closing the sedan door with a soft ‘thud’. In his chest, his heart raced, though he did his best to keep his breathing calm. In through the nose, out through the mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back to your high-rise, Akaashi-san?” inquired the driver, the middle-aged man working to catch his patron’s reflection in the rearview mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Akaashi chuckled, running his fingers through his dark hair. “Just take me to the nearest void so I can scream into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The driver gave him a confused look at that comment, but the lawyer just waved him on. Oh yeah, his sense of humor wasn’t for everyone. “My home is fine, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, the car pulled away from the curb, the hum of the tires and low jazz on the radio doing something to help calm his ferocious nerves. Okay, so meeting that gorgeously hot college athlete was definitely more intimidating than he had originally thought. Going into the date, he had convinced himself that it was fine, he could totally do this. He was the older one, after all. He had been the consulting attorney on a murder trial once, for Christ’s sakes! He had this in the bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But luring himself into that false sense of confidence did him no favors the moment he had approached the front of the shop. There before him had been an Adonis of a man, with a broad and beautiful body, even more statuesque and alluring in real life. The pictures, though, hadn't done his face justice. Sure, he was obviously handsome in his dating profile, but there was something about the way he carried himself in person. Those golden eyes were wide and sharp, though tinged with a quiet softness. It spoke volumes about his character even long before he had opened his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During his time as an attorney and even through law school, Akaashi had come to read people using just their eyes. Long ago, poets wrote how they were the ‘windows to the soul’, and the dark-haired man had found that to be so true. In his experience, a truly kind person was easy to spot. Warmth radiated from the outside in, and that was certainly the case with Bokuto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if his companion had been so charming and sweet, then why had he been unsettled? In all honesty, this whole ordeal would have been so much simpler if this gorgeous sugar baby was a self-absorbed asshole. Akaashi almost wanted him to be cocky and kind of cruel. He almost wanted him to vain, someone who sought his own interests. But he wasn’t, and that was going to make this whole thing more difficult.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because if he were all of those things,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Akaashi thought, curling and uncurling his hands, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then I could guarantee that this arrangement wouldn’t become an attachment. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the fear of getting hurt, left behind, that bothered the attorney the most. Becoming attached to someone, craving their laughter, their voice, their gentle embrace. Well, it was, in a word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrifying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It had been years since he had desired someone specifically, but now, as he curled into himself in the backseat of the sleek car, he felt his stomach churn. He needed to ground himself, remember that this was simply an arrangement - nothing more, nothing less; a business transaction, cold and unfeeling. He was paying someone for their time and companionship, and had they met under natural circumstances in the real world, had Bokuto run into him without the incentive of payment, none of this would be happening. The gorgeous athlete wouldn’t even have afforded him a second glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pinging in his pocket pulled him from his spiraling thoughts, prompting him to sit up straight. He hadn’t checked his phone all evening, out of courtesy to his date, but he supposed it was likely Oikawa and Suga checking in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, across his screen was a message screen, the gray bar displaying their group chat name: Best Bitches, accompanied by an ungodly and exuberant number of emojis. Every few weeks, Oikawa changed it to something different, though Akaashi wished they could just keep it as the default ‘Akaashi / Oikawa / Sugawara’ that it was supposed to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Oikawa [9:38 p.m.]: </b>
  <em>
    <span>So?! How did it go? Are you banging in your fancy pool yet?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Suga [9:39 p.m.]: </b>
  <em>
    <span>Oikawa I already told you that I seriously doubt that is going to happen on their first date.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Oikawa [9:40 p.m.]: </b>
  <em>
    <span>You never know! Maybe our precious Keiji has finally tapped into his kinks! </span>
  </em>
</p><p><b>Me [9:41 p.m.]:</b> <em><span>Nothing of the sort happened. </span></em></p><p>
  <b>Suga [9:41 p.m.]: </b>
  <em>
    <span>So?! How was dinner? Was he nice?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Me [9:42 p.m.]:</b>
  <em>
    <span> He is a very polite young man.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><b>Oikawa [9:42 p.m.]:</b> <em><span>I swear to god - you and Waka-chan could be BFFs with the way you speak.</span></em></p><p><b>Suga</b> <b>[9:43 p.m.]</b><span>: </span><em><span>be nice!!! I’m sure it was a little nerve-racking for our sweet Keiji! </span></em></p><p><b>Oikawa [9:44 p.m.]:</b> <em><span>oh please, he is the kinkiest little shit out of all of us… It’s always the quiet ones. I would know ;) </span></em></p><p>
  <b>Me [9:46 p.m.]</b>
  <span>: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am just pulling up to my house. I will talk to you guys later.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, he muted his notifications. There was a lot he needed to prepare for in regards to the coming week, including a guest lecture he was giving at his alma mater on Tuesday for the law department. He had some notes put together, but honestly, his weekend had inadvertently been handed over to that devilish app and the angelic man he met because of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just stay focused! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He reminded himself as he tipped the driver, stepping out into the cold night. However, that mantra felt worthless as soon as the frigid wind nipped at his bare neck, driving him to recall the fact that his favorite scarf was around some other man’s throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk to the station was everything Bokuto needed it to be - cold, refreshing, and filled with just the right amount of distractions, the noise of the city helping keep him tethered to reality. Even as he settled into the train, finding an open seat, he was once again hit with the smell of his date’s cologne clinging to the fabric of the scarf. And each time, the scent hit him like a welcomed slap across the face - what had happened was very real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of his time spent meandering to the train station was under the guise that he was in a dream, that their encounter was simply a manifestation brought on by an energy drink crash. Any moment now, he would surge awake, find himself slumped over his desk and drooling on his MacBook with his statistics notes still open on the screen. But alas, the last two days hadn’t been a figment of his imagination or some sort of fever dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he opened the door to his and Kuroo’s shared apartment, he was greeted by his best friend’s Cheshire grin. “Hey, dude!” the black-haired man waved from his spot on the sofa. He was shirtless, as per usual, donning only his Nekoma High sweatpants and sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a gaming controller in one hand and a headset smushing down his wild bedhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, bro!” Bokuto said in return, toeing off his shoes in the genkan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your date?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white-haired man smiled and flopped onto the sofa next to his best friend. Out of courtesy, the chemistry major slipped his headset around his neck but kept his eyes focused on the screen. It looked like he was playing Call of Duty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really good,” Bokuto admitted, leaning so his head rested on Kuroo’s shoulder. “He’s so beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto nodded. “Yeah. And he’s really tall, actually. Almost as tall as me. And he’s got these gorgeous eyes that are so blue but also kind of greenish-gray? And he speaks so formally but he’s still kinda chill. Plus, his hands are so big with these long fingers. And turns out he used to be a swimmer? I mean, I know he posted a picture of him swimming in his profile, but seriously. This dude was on the track for the Olympics before his shoulder got fucked up or something.” He took a deep breath before continuing his spiel, “and he’s this really cool lawyer. Like, it sounds like he actually helps people and his firm is super important. He said he graduated from Tokyo University, too, which means he has to be smart as fuck to make it out of the law program alive.” Kuroo offered a hum in agreement. “Plus, he didn’t even make fun of me when I almost lit my eyebrows on fire!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tall brunette smiled and leaned into his buddy, thumbs still tapping away as he fired off rounds at an enemy. Though to make it obvious he had heard every word Bokuto had said, he replied, “this guy sounds like a dream, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is a dream,” the owlish man gushed, eyes slipping closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When are you seeing each other again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto shrugged and his cheeks felt warm. “Not until the weekend. We’re going to a charity gala.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo whistled at that, giving his friend a curious side-eye. “Oh-oh? A charity gala already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto swallowed nervously. “Is that a bad thing?” he inquired. He didn’t know much about this lifestyle other than the snippets that his best friend had graced him with. Otherwise, he felt like he was wandering around in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo chuckled at that, right as he gunned down an opponent. “Dude, fuck no it isn’t. He wants to show you off - that’s a damn good thing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white-haired man pursed his lips together in thought. “So he must kinda like me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, who wouldn’t like you?” And the sincerity in his friend’s voice was very tangible as he spoke, flooding Bokuto with a surging warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course!” The game ended then, the leaderboard spanning across the widescreen. As per usual, Kuroo was at the top, his username of ‘xKiller_Katx’ filling the number one slot. Seriously, his KD ratio was absolutely insane. He reached down to set the controller on the coffee table, right next to an empty can of coffee. “It took weeks for Kenma to take me to one of his galas, but I think that had more to do with the fact that he hates attending them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are you guys like, legit together?” A gray eyebrow arched on his head, scanning his roommate’s face carefully for any sort of answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course, the taller man was casual with his response. “Maybe,” he drawled with a coy wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tetsu</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Bokuto whined a little, pouting out his lip. “Just tell me! We don’t keep secrets from each other!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Golden eyes rolled so hard that they damn near rolled out of his skull, but still a soft smile pulled at his lips. “We’re exclusive, okay? And he’s a good guy.” His features took on a vulnerable quality then, his lively irises darkening to a heavier shade. “I just don’t want to count any chickens before they’re hatched, ya know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah buddy, I know.” And indeed, he truly did. For some reason, everyone chalked up the pair as players, writing them off as pretty boys who were superficial, though when in all actuality, they were anything but.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You even got a souvenir from your date?” Kuroo teased, moving on, gesturing at the newest accessory adorning Bokuto’s outfit. The single stretch of fabric was probably worth as much as a month’s rent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he replied quietly, burying his nose into the intoxicating scent. “I sure did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi was not often late or thrown out of his well-orchestrated routine. In fact, he prided himself on being on time, hyper-focused on his schedule, moving fluidly from task to task with a strict time allotment for each one. He kept phone calls and Zoom meetings free of small talk and mindless chatter, never taking a longer lunch than necessary, and always ensuring that Konoha kept unplanned items at a minimum, screening them to minimize disruptions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, there were just some things that neither Akaashi nor his meticulous assistant could plan for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” the driver explained over the phone, “there is an accident on the freeway and they’ve shut down part of the main road. I am on my way, but I’m really just a sitting duck for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi sighed into the phone and slumped against the brick wall of the law building. His lecture had gone really well and his students were incredibly attentive. Even the regular professor, who was once a TA back when Akaashi was in school, was very polite and cordial. The class was made up of about fifty students, but his lecture had been open to pre-law majors as well, which forced the university to switch his presentation from a standard classroom to one that was amphitheater style. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young lawyer gripped his canvas bag harder, pinching his eyes closed to stave off the winter sunlight beaming through the branches of the nearly-barren trees. “It’s alright, Kondo-san. Please just drive carefully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you planning on taking the train?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi knew he could easily take public transit, but he had grown accustomed to riding in his car service. It’s not that he never took the train or felt as though he were above it, he just liked the solitude of his car and being able to work from his phone without worrying about which stop was next or breaching privacy by talking to a client in public.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that is alright, I’ll stop into the cafe here on campus until you’re able to arrive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, sir,” his driver apologized once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No worries at all. I have my laptop and I’ll just get some work done while I wait.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all honesty, the work he had left for the day could easily get done so long as he could access the internet. The driver was only taking him back to the office so he could prepare case notes, as it was already almost three p.m. At this rate, he could catch up on work while enjoying a warm coffee and the nostalgic feeling of sitting at one of his favorite spots - Tokyo University. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir. I will see you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drive safe,” Akaashi wished before ending the call. He returned his phone to his pocket and scoured the scenery before him. Not much had changed in the ten plus years since Akaashi had graduated from law school. All the buildings were there, stony and aged as ever. The paved walkways were well-maintained, lined with low shrubs that were green, even through the winter months. The tall trees were stripped over their leaves, but still as majestic as ever, scraping the bright blue sky with barren, ashen branches. A crisp autumn wind kicked up, ruffling the bottom of his wool peacoat, worn over a very sharp and well-tailored navy suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached up with a gloved hand and adjusted his tie and his glasses before stepping out behind a large group of students, surely shuffling between buildings to get to the last of their classes for the day. He knew that at the center of campus there was a coffee shop that was frequented by bookish and studious students, as it was very close to the library. A different but more popular cafe had been assembled on campus toward the end of Akaashi’s college career. It was a modern monstrosity that also featured an underground bowling alley. This helped filter out some of the more rambunctious students, allowing his favorite coffee shop to be just a bit quieter, slower-paced. The attorney had fond memories of curling up in the far booth, a nearly-withered copy of the novel ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Diving Pool</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ curled in his long fingers while he sipped his mochas and dreamed of who he might be someday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi had a knack for losing himself in his thoughts. It came from spending so much time alone. Tuning out the world around him had become second nature over time, something he could easily do without even trying. Much like fidgeting with his hands, it was simply a habit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was for this reason that the tall brunette hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention when he suddenly rammed into what felt like a brick wall. He couldn’t have just hit a building, could he? Had he been that absorbed? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His butt connected to the pavement, the lawyer thankful that he was wearing gloves when he put a hand back in an attempt to try to cushion his fall. The last thing he wanted was to try to type and handle documents with a scraped palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I was running to try to meet up with my buddy and I didn’t see you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as Akaashi’s blue eyes flitted upward, he was met with a face that he had only seen one other time, but was all too familiar. The golden irises that had been haunting his dreams for the last four nights were right there, front and center, two amber moons, wide and wonderful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bokuto-san?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thundering in Bokuto’s heart threatened to rip his ribcage apart with the sheer ferocity of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way this was happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi?” the tall man squeaked out, bent over the beautiful lawyer who was clearly shocked as they stared at one another. Over the past few days, there had been basically radio silence from the older man, apart from the random replies to Bokuto’s messages. The volleyball player found himself always texting first, and that was a bit disheartening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t gone overkill, at least that’s what Kuroo reassured him. It was just a message here or there, just to wish him a good week or to confirm the address for the tux shop. And besides, his best friend had explained that Akaashi was this actual adult with a crazy busy life and lots of important cases. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Consider this’,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kuroo had pointed out, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kenma and I are exclusive and we can’t talk all the time. He’s just too busy. That’s adulthood.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Bokuto-san,” the lawyer greeted, struggling to sit upright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On instinct, the volleyball player dropped to his a squat, regarding the fallen lawyer like the true physical therapy student he was. “Are you alright? Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright,” the dark-haired man assured, a blush coloring his cheeks that Bokuto suspected had nothing to do with the cold wind and everything to do with being embarrassed. Still, though, he looked incredibly handsome, his outfit so put together and posh. The blue of his suit made his eyes pop a brilliant cerulean. “It’s quite okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me help you up!” the student offered, grabbing Akaashi by the wrist. Slowly, they stood together, the lawyer leaning into Bokuto’s broad chest a little, seemingly struggling to maintain balance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Akaashi’s speech was always polite and level, just like everything else about him. There was a cool demeanor hidden behind those beautiful, dark eyes. As he stared, Bokuto found himself wondering if those orbs were intentionally blue, meant to personify the very waters that sailors from lore drowned themselves in while attempting to reach the singing sirens on shore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem!” The younger man beamed, watching closely as Akaashi wiped off any dirt from his very expensive-looking coat. “I’m sorry I bumped into you! Sometimes, I get a bit carried away, I think.” He pawed sheepishly at the back of his neck. He looked very undressed next to his counterpart. He was sporting faded jeans, a Tokyo University Volleyball Club hoodie, and a half-falling apart Adidas backpack hanging haphazardly off one shoulder, giving little care for the extremely expensive textbooks house inside. As always, his hair spiked up and away from his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t a problem,” he reassured again, a polite smile in tow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So um, what are you doing here, by the way? On campus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Oh, well I was giving a guest lecture today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto’s mouth fell open. “That’s so cool! To law students?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, my old TA is now the professor and he invited me to speak.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the next compliment rolled off of the student’s tongue, a beautiful blush forced its way onto the lawyer’s handsome face. “You are so smart! I am sure that the students learned a lot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t know about that…” he replied a bit diffidently, clearly growing flustered by his younger counterpart’s kind words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Akaashi!” Bokuto blurted excitedly. “Do you want to have some coffee with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blessedly, that magic word seemed to grab the attorney’s attention, as Bokuto could have sworn he saw a spark of interest flash across his beautiful features. “You’re going for coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto nodded. “Yeah! Do you want to go with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weren’t you meeting your friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Oh, right. Kuroo. “I was, but I’ll just text him. We live together so it’s no biggie. Besides, how often would I spontaneously get to have coffee with the most gorgeous attorney in the world?” He knew he was flirting. That was the point, right? To have a little fun with each other, make this absolutely stunning human feel flattered? Not that his words were mere flattery or simple lip service. That was so very far from the truth because everything he was saying to Akaashi was absolutely genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Demurely, Akaashi looked down at his hands, threading his long, elegant fingers together. The gloves suited him perfectly, making him appear polished and refined. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, Bokuto-san.” The flush on his pale skin was divine, almost like he was glowing from the inside out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, I would. C’mon, let’s walk!” With that, he turned on his heel, motioning for the older man to follow him. “It’ll be a lot of fun,” he insisted, punctuating the promise with a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like the rest of campus, not much had changed within the coffee shop over the last ten years. Due to Bokuto’s outgoing nature, Akaashi had assumed he was being dragged off to the main student hub, the one with the bowling alley. But much to his (pleasant) surprise, they wound up instead at the very little spot he had frequented during his own time at university.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere was quiet, low acoustic music humming over the ancient speaker system. The old, gallery-style windows let in plenty of late afternoon sunlight, panting the worn hardwoods in a subdued orange glow. Just like they always had, the walls featured artwork done by students in their exhibition classes, hoping to sell a piece here or there. The place was quiet, comfortable, and thankfully, relatively empty of patrons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you like to drink?” his date asked as they approached the counter. It was obvious he was doing his hardest to control his volume to match the appropriate ambiance of the place, though it was a bit in vain, as it seemed that being a little too loud was just Bokuto’s default setting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A caramel mocha, please. With skim milk,” he added for good measure, keeping his stomach in mind. After he turned thirty, any real dairy was terrible for his digestive system. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got it, ‘Kasshi!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the sound of a nickname, he flushed a little. How many times was he going to blush like a virgin schoolboy in this man’s presence today? He couldn’t help but wonder. It seemed like the young man’s charms were just too much on his tender heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I have a medium caramel mocha with skim milk?” he asked the woman at the counter after she greeted him. “And do you guys have a  frappuccino machine back there yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman leveled him with a deadpan look and then shook her head. “You know we don’t, Bo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. But you know I’d blow all my money here if you did.” A small smile pulled at the corner of the girl’s mouth, signaling that she was starting to cave into the volleyball player’s even-tempered charm. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Just give me my usual then, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto frequented here enough to have a usual order? And for the barista to have it memorized? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A whole milk hot chocolate with four espresso shots?” Bokuto gave an affirming nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, that explains it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Who would forget an order like that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barista tapped away at the buttons on her register before giving the total. “That will be twelve hundred yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I can pay for this--” the lawyer started, watching as Bokuto reached into his back pocket for his wallet. However, two things barred him from finishing his reply. The first was his date’s chiding remark, citing, ‘No way - I literally ran into you, it’s the least I can do!’ But the second reason was, well, a bit more embarrassing to admit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During their first encounter a few days ago, it was painfully obvious that Bokuto was attractive. Not only was he tall, and taller than Akaashi, at that (no easy feat), he was also broad. He had a gorgeous barrel chest and beautifully strong biceps. And he had seen Bokuto’s absolutely sinful legs and the swell of his pert ass through his profile photos (given the low light of the sushi place, he hadn’t really gotten a good look at any other physical assets), but being this close to him in broad daylight, watching the man’s large hand remove a leather wallet from the back pocket of his wonderfully tight stone-washed jeans…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, if there was a heaven, Akaashi believed he didn’t need to die to visit there, as it was already before him, plain as day. Calling it a ripe, Georgia peach had been an understatement, as Bokuto’s ass was the very reason the peach emoji was ever used to describe backsides in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus, maybe he should have ordered a water, too, seeing how he was acting so</span>
  <em>
    <span> fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>thirsty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where would you like to sit?” Bokuto asked, turning back toward his date. Thankfully, Akaashi was able to lift his eyes just in time to avoid getting caught checking the other man out. “They said they’d bring our order to the table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wherever is fine, Bokuto-san,” he assured with a timid smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like sitting by the window in the back,” he explained, treading across the dining room, the old floorboards groaning underneath the student’s impressive bulk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you come here often?” Akaashi inquired curiously. Granted, he knew the answer based on the transaction at the counter, but still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To that, his date gave a confirming hum. “Yeah, I like it here. It’s kind of quiet, but it’s a good place to study.” Like the true gentleman he was, Bokuto slid out Akaashi’s chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he murmured politely, removing his jacket, which the younger man promptly took. Bokuto draped the peacoat over the back of Akaashi’s chair prior to pushing it in. The whole gesture was very sweet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” the student responded, taking his place across from Akaashi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am surprised you don’t frequent that new student center,” the lawyer stated once they were settled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, it’s just kind of loud, ya know? Not that I don’t like loud places. I think most people assume I prefer it. But there is something really cool about this spot.” He took a deep breath before stating, “I know that I told you about failing one of my classes, but I don’t think I’m dumb.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he sounded equal parts defensive and embarrassed touched Akaashi’s heart. “I don’t think you are dumb at all, Bokuto-san. Classes at this university are notoriously difficult.” It was part of the reason he had chosen Tokyo University in his youth. He didn’t want to just be a lawyer, he wanted to be a damn good one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto gave him a huge smile at that, looking reassured, eyes sparkling. There was a bit of a duality to him, Akaashi had come to observe in even such a short time. His mood could easily be swayed by one word or another and it was terribly endearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for saying that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi wasn’t just saying that, though. He meant it. “I am only being honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, the waitress arrived with beverages, setting them on the table with a polite smile. “Thank you,” they said in unison to the woman, who only bowed in return before heading back to the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was your friend upset at you for changing plans?” Akaashi inquired, removing his gloves and setting them at the corner of the table. Now that he would have a warm beverage to hold, some of the chill would leave his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit!” the tall man hissed, leaning back in his chair to fish his phone from his hoodie pocket. Like a madman, he typed something out on the screen before hitting ‘send’. “I almost forgot, thank you! I just told him I ran into someone I know and were going for coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure I’m not interrupting something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way!” There was a congenial laugh to drive home his assurance. “Kuroo is so laid back. He won’t mind at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good to hear.” Taking a long sip of his drink, he relished in the familiar taste. It was good to know that the recipe was still the same as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did your presentation go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was amazing how natural talking with Bokuto felt, the conversation falling in easily. The young man was energetic, his legs bouncing beneath the table, causing little ripples to quiver in his mug. However, he was still attentive, listening as though everything Akaashi was saying was of the utmost importance, despite it being just a boring story about the details of his lecture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was something Bokuto didn’t understand, he simply asked, showing that he was truly interested in learning and in turn, interested in Akaashi. He also smiled in all of the right places, interjecting here or there with encouraging comments. It seemed that everything the younger man did was full of light and joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, now I wish I was a pre-law student so I could come to one of your lectures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did his hair just deflate a little at that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Akaashi could have sworn it did. “I am afraid I don’t get the opportunity to come on campus very often, so I feel like if that were your sole reason, it would truly be a waste of your time and talents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talents?” he repeated, sitting up a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely. You must be very talented to not only be the captain of your highly-ranked volleyball team but also, to be accepted into the physical therapy program.” As a nervous habit, he adjusted his glasses. It wasn’t difficult to compliment someone, especially someone as lovely as Bokuto, but pouring his heart out to another human wasn’t a particularly natural occurrence for him. “I think you’re going to do amazing things, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell above the shop door jingled to signify a new patron had joined their midst. Akaashi didn’t pay any mind to the noise, as he was focused on his date. However, before him, Bokuto’s face morphed into a look of total surprise, the broad man no longer looking directly at Akaashi. Rather, he was staring over the lawyer’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bokuto-san?” he questioned quietly. Though he didn’t have to turn around in his chair to figure out what his date was looking at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bo! What the hell! You bail on me for coffee? Who are you even w--” A tall, lanky man had stridden up the table, the black mass of hair on his head bushy and wild. He was obviously a student, given the way he was dressed. He had on black skinny jeans, factory frayed at the knees, paired with heavy combat boots and a blood-red sweatshirt. Conventionally, he was an attractive young man, with high cheekbones and cat-like eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kuroo!” Bokuto shot up in his seat, standing, though keeping his palms flat to the tabletop. “What the fuck are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who's this?” Like a light switch, the other man, Kuroo’s, face transformed, expression changing from obviously angry to sly as a fox, a cunning grin taking to his handsome features. He had two rows of pearly, perfect teeth, reminiscent of a toothpaste ad model.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it,” Bokuto tried to say as nonchalantly as possible, though that was obviously a massive fail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is him, isn’t it?” A black eyebrow flew into his ridiculous hairline, disappearing beneath his unkempt fringe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get to meet yours, you don’t get to meet mine.” The white-haired student folded his arms tightly across his broad chest and Akaashi did his best to keep any thirsty thoughts at bay. To be honest, his date did look a bit annoyed at the intrusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This must be Bokuto’s roommate</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the attorney surmised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously, his best friend was going to ignore Bokuto, as the brunette thrust out his hand. “Kuroo Tetsurou, it’s a pleasure to meet you…” he left his sentence hanging, allowing Akaashi to fill in the gap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi Keiji,” the attorney filled in, meeting the hand in a firm shake. The other young man had massive hands, too, his long fingers barely rivaling Akaashi’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi,” Kuroo parroted, withdrawing his hand and offering a bow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you’ve met, can you move on now?” Bokuto pleaded. He turned his head to his date. “That’s Kuroo, please ignore him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ignore me’</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!” Kuroo scoffed indignantly, a sneer crossing his lips. “Ignore the man who is coming to save your ass!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Save my ass?” drawled Bokuto in return. “Save my ass from what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were we meeting this afternoon, Bo?” Kuroo inquired, pinching the bridge of his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm…” Bokuto let his voice trail off, adorably sticking out his tongue in thought. “Uh, to chill?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To chill?” Hearing him repeat the phrase so indignantly nearly sent a shiver down Akaashi’s spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you dip shit. We were supposed to go to the advising office and sign off to finalize our schedules and drop off the grad forms! Did you forget?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Given the way Bokuto blinked owlishly and his mouth fell into a little ‘o’, it was safe to surmise that he had, indeed, forgotten. “Was that what we were meeting for?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, bro! And we have to go! The advising office is across campus and the forms are due at 5!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time is it now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, this was something Akaashi felt compelled to help with. He rolled over his wrist and glanced down at his Rolex. “Twenty ‘til,” he answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” That seemed to be Bokuto’s curse word of the hour. “Shit! ‘Kaashi, I am so sorry! I have to go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you even fill the paperwork out?” Kuroo chastised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s in my bag!” He gestured to the canvas backpack hanging on the corner of his own chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grab it, and let’s go!” Kuroo looked absolutely exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, ‘Kaashi!” the younger man said again as he grabbed his bag. “I totally forgot about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay, I understand. I was in college once, too.” Kuroo seemed to offer up a sly smile at that remark, but Akaashi decided to not think further of it, at least not at that moment. “Please, make sure you get everything in on time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will!” Bokuto beamed, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Kuroo offered a quick wave before heading back toward the front door, only this time, Bokuto lingered, hesitating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something else you need, Bokuto-san?” the lawyer asked, turning in his seat to face the younger man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we still on for Saturday?” He sounded almost nervous asking that, as if he were truly afraid that Akaashi would uninvite him to the charity gala.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are,” he replied simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto’s shoulders slackened at that, clearly holding onto some sort of tension. A smile graced his face. “Okay, awesome!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, let’s go!” Kuroo called from the front of the shop, clearly uncaring that his impatient hollering was disturbing the tranquil atmosphere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, right!” Bokuto waved over his shoulder. “See you Saturday!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi offered a genuine smile of his own. “See you Saturday, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ohhh, the ship is sailing!! Please leave me a comment and let me know what you thought! They really make my day!</p><p>Oh, and while you're leaving a comment, please be sure to wish my dear friend adka2333 a happy birthday!!! They deserve all the love in the world for being such a sweet friend to me as well as a huge supporter and sounding board for my work. This chapter is for you, dear!!</p><p>I broke down and made a Twitter for real. I haven't had once since I was 14 (and I'm almost 28), but feel free to say hello! @photogiraffe77</p><p>Love you all!</p><p>Next time: a gala</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Gala: Part I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone! So sorry for the delay in this chapter. It has been a crazy few weeks at work coupled with a remodel of part of my home. Anyway, thank you for your patience!</p><p>Shoutout to adka2333 for the help with the suit designs! I really appreciate you!</p><p>Also, check out the inspiration for Akaashi's high-rise <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/24/0b/3d/240b3d4611dc3a80e6a2358d877e6a88.jpg">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweat lined his palms as a heavy brick sat in his throat. The higher the elevator climbed, the more nervous Bokuto grew. Sure, he was fitted in his new suit. The fabric was expensive, dyed a cool navy tone that made him look so much more mature than he actually felt 99% of the time. And Kuroo, though seemingly no pro at doing hair, had slicked his dual-toned locks back, creating a very stylish and ‘sexy AF’ (Kuroo’s words) look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi had left Bokuto’s name with the doorman, instructing the college student to come up to his penthouse. The original plan had been for Bokuto to be picked up at his dorm, but apparently, there was an overtime phone call Akaashi needed to take from a client that had interrupted the better part of his afternoon, and he still needed some time to get ready. It was no issue, not for Bokuto, at least. He gladly took the three train stops required to get from campus to the highrise apartment, taking a small detour along the way to pick a bouquet of flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all honesty, Bokuto didn’t know what the protocol was in this type of scenario. He knew that it was supposed to be Akaashi spoiling him, as that was sort of the nature of the whole deal, but he couldn’t help but act like the gentleman he was raised to be. If his mother knew he was going on a first date and planned on showing up empty-handed, she would beat him around their family home with a wooden cooking spoon. Deal or no deal, app or no app, Akaashi was lovely and so worthy of being swooned. Money didn’t change that fact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bokuto had stopped off at the flower shop near Akaashi’s residence, he really hadn’t known much about what he was after, just that he wanted something pretty to really brighten the attorney’s day, especially since by the sounds of it, it had been very busy and a bit stressful, which was no way to spend a weekend. Upon entering the little florist’s, he was greeted by an elderly woman who wore her graying hair pulled up in a neat bun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do for you, son? You look like you’re off to a big date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been the understatement of the year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am! And he is really amazing and way out of my league and I don’t want to make a bad impression on him and I absolutely can’t show up at his doorstep empty-handed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gushing didn’t stop there, though. Unintentionally, he had stood at the counter just a little too long, pouring out his heart over the man he had only met twice. Surely, he sounded stupid, right? Who became this infatuated in such a short amount of time? Plus, if she knew the nature of their ‘dating’, she would surely judge the duo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman seemed amused by this sudden and excitable declaration but assured the young patron that she had ‘just the bouquet’ for the occasion. Bokuto thanked the woman for all of her help, taking his time strolling around the shop while she set to work in the back, admiring the different arrangements on display, as well as the little charms and trinkets that were for sale. He was running a bit ahead of schedule, considering that Akaashi was running so far behind, and Bokuto enjoyed taking a breather to try to settle his nerves. The subway had been relatively crowded given that it was a Saturday evening, people shuffling to get to their various social events, and it had felt stuffy. But here in the quiet shop, he had a moment to process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During the bit of downtime, he let his mind wander. Ever since their impromptu coffee date earlier in the week, the black-haired man would not leave his brain. Every spare thought he had was of Akaashi. They exchanged a few texts throughout the week, musings about their workdays, Bokuto talking about his volleyball schedule, Akaashi mentioning his own hectic routine and how he was caught in the constant web of court and meetings and phone calls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lawyer had also emailed him a few tutor profiles, asking him to make a selection. But that wasn’t all that came his way - the first deposit landed in his account, and the college student thought his eyes were going to pop from his skull when he saw the numbers listed on his screen. It was the agreed-upon amount, sure. But hearing someone say that total and it being your bank account were two completely different things, and when the deposit notification came up on his bank app, he wasn’t sure what to think. In fact, he had to sit down back at his apartment to keep himself from falling over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been two days ago, and other than a box of onigiri from his favorite food stall on campus, he hadn’t spent a dime of it. He knew he was supposed to take it down to the billing office at the college and make a payment, or deliver the rent check to the front desk at his apartment building, but there was something in him that still didn’t let him believe that it was real. And despite the agreement and signing the contract that Akaashi had emailed over, he still felt some guilt about accepting the cash. Was it really okay to take this guy’s money? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the shop owner had reemerged with a large arrangement composed mostly of mauve carnations, accented with a few white carnations and sprigs of greenery in a crystal vase. After paying the woman and thanking her for her time, he was only a quick walk from the lawyer’s high rise. Which was good, as he didn’t want to run the risk of the flowers getting ruined in the chilly winter wind </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So now, it was just him, the elevator, and a very large bouquet of flowers. His heart hammed in his chest and as the little chime ‘dinged’, indicating Akaashi’s floor, he sucked in a deep breath. This proved to be a bit of a mistake though, as the floral scent invaded his lungs, serving as a potent reminder of just where he was, and what he was doing there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Summoning some self-confidence, he pressed the bell outside of the white door, the kanji across the top reading ‘Akaashi’, indicating that he had followed the instructions correctly and was in fact at the right apartment. He didn’t know what he would have done if he had shown up at the wrong door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One moment!” a familiar voice called from the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can do this! You can do this!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But when the door finally opened and Akaashi stood on the other side, dressed only in a knee-length black robe, the belt around the midsection loosely tied, as though the garment were thrown on in a hurry, Bokuto knew that he, in fact, could </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slender, pale torso greeted him, the muscles visible at the top of his abdomen defined, yet lean. The planes of his chest were gorgeous, his sternum exposed, though the black fabric concealed his nipples, Bokuto couldn’t help wondering if they were the same blushing tone as his cherry blossom lips. The dips of his collarbone made a beautiful canyon, some of the water from his shower collecting and pooling before diving, running down his flawless skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Bokuto prided himself on his body - he worked very hard to have the thighs, ass, and thick-cut abs that he possessed. Hours of grueling training, work-outs, using his body as a tool of athleticism led him to where he was today. However, there was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the way Akaashi carried himself, standing there, blue-gray eyes wide, as if having just realized what he had done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bokuto-san,” he addressed the younger man formally, the beautiful flush gracing his face also running down his neck and to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, the blonde forced his eyes upwards, remembering to mind his manners and not stare, though that ship had probably already sailed. And when their gazes locked, Bokuto could feel his own face redden. “‘Kaashi!” he greeted hastily, voice probably a bit too loud for the short hallway. “Hi! I got you some flowers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lawyer, despite doing his best to compose himself, pulled his robe closed tighter across his midsection with his free hand, the other still bracing the edge of the door. “They are beautiful,” he said, smiling shyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto couldn’t help but notice that his date wasn’t wearing his glasses like he usually did. When freed from the smart frames, even in the low light of the genkan, the stunning cerulean of his irises was starkly evident. They were lined in thick, dark lashes, fanning heavy and tinged with moisture, as though he were fresh from the shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or perhaps the pool.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on in,” Akaashi said, stepping away from the frame and holding out his free hand, ushering the younger man inside. Once entering the genkan, he slipped off his shoes, thanking his host. “I’ll take those from you,” Akaashi offered, reaching for the vase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the briefest moment, their fingers brushed together, and Bokuto thought back to their short stint of holding hands just outside the law building on campus. Touching Akaashi even in the smallest capacity caused electricity to splinter through his veins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for having me,” he said dumbly, uncharacteristically lost for words. There was a duality to his sugar daddy that seemed to render him speechless while simultaneously making him want to bare his soul. It was a very strange feeling indeed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” the lawyer responded, turning back to head further into his apartment, Bokuto taking extreme note of how cute Akaashi’s nose was when it was buried in the Bordeaux-colored flowers. Even when Akaashi turned his back to his date, Bokuto could make out the red-tinging tips of his ears, burning and brilliant. Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>make this mature, astute man flustered? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, once the volleyball player finally stopped staring at Akaashi like a man possessed, and really took a moment to survey his surroundings, he was once again taken aback. It wasn’t surprising at all, given the location of his building and the way it looked from the exterior, but the apartment was truly marveling and must have cost a fortune. Crystal-clear picture windows stretched two stories tall, the skyline of Tokyo shining bright and brilliant into the modern-style living room. Hardwood floors, colored a light beige, complemented the stark white walls and heathered white couches, the two sofas facing one another framed a mosaic rug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Casually, Akaashi made his way over to a glass-top coffee table that centered the rug, placing the vase on it. Bokuto didn’t miss the way the tall brunette lingered, eyes closed, enjoying the sweet scent from the flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a gorgeous house,” Bokuto commented. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said once more, standing up straight, holding his robe closed. “May I offer you a drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ll have a water, if that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” A small, demure smile pulled at the corners of his pink lips as turned and headed toward the kitchen. It was also a beautiful room, the entirety of the living quarters was an open concept design. The white counters had heavy, marbled tops and were flecked with gold, tying the whole place together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lavish apartment was a far cry from the tiny shoebox he and Kuroo shared, with its paper-thin walls coated in off-white paint and squeaky, decades-old wooden floors. Hell, they didn’t even use the stove anymore after Kuroo singed his bangs once while trying to use the burners when they first moved in, the flames of the gas range reaching just a bit too high for comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi made his way over to the refrigerator, the tall man very lithe and light on his feet as he padded across the living room. “Sorry for causing us a delay. I tend to be punctual to these things,” he explained, removing a water bottle from the fridge, “though apparently, being ‘fashionably late’ is the trend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s okay! Thank you for having me in your home.” Bokuto sincerely meant that. Despite them having a clear connection, they were still, at the core, strangers. Akaashi was a very important man and he had a beautiful home filled with valuable things. If the roles were reversed, Bokuto considered that he would likely be wary about having a stranger from an app in his home under similar circumstances. Given Akaashi’s profession, being naive wasn’t an explanation. Did that mean he trusted Bokuto already, even just a little bit?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.” He smiled again, handing the bottle over. “I will be ready in just a moment. Please make yourself at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got it, ‘Kaashi! It’s so nice here, I might never leave.” A flirtatious wink punctuated the sentence, and the brunette playfully rolled his eyes as he let out a little airy laugh. Without further adieu, the lawyer disappeared back down the hallway, presumably to his room to finish getting ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto smiled to himself as he took a sip of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight was going to be a good night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tell me which one to wear!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aka-chan, just wear whatever! You have so many fabulous suits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he admitted with a groan because while that was true, it was also part of the problem. His closet was lined with suit after suit. It was all he wore to work, after all. But this wasn’t just court or some kind of client meeting. This was an art gala, for god’s sake. Granted, he had been to a dozen fundraisers just like this, but this was fundamentally different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reason?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto was going to be on his arm and holy shit did his date look fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing </span>
  </em>
  <span>in that suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seriously, he would need to leave an extra-large tip for the tailor or send the whole shop some sort of expensive gift basket or bottle of wine as a ‘thank you’ for their efforts. The outfit Akaashi had originally laid out seemed so subpar in comparison to Bokuto’s stunning navy ensemble. Looking down, all he saw was just a plain, charcoal suit and corresponding Oxfords. And he couldn’t go for plain. He needed to go ‘wow’, especially in the presence of his young date. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flip the camera around and show me what you have laid out,” Oikawa instructed. Given the dark background behind his head and the harsh blue light flooding his handsome features, Tooru appeared to be in the car on the way to the gala, which meant that Ushijima was likely driving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a bit of reluctance, Keiji obliged, switching the camera option off of ‘selfie’ mode, giving his best friend a good view of his mediocre selection. Three suits were laid out on his giant bed, each one feeling more lackluster than the last. Seriously, he should have just made a trip to the tailor himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what I had set out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi was thankful for the distraction from his best friend, even for just a moment. His face burned the longer he thought about his faux pas from a few minutes earlier. Answering the door in that condition of undress had totally been an accident, as he had been so wrapped up in his mind about the phone call with the client and their impending trial that he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Though taking into consideration the way Bokuto’s jaw almost came unhinged at the sight of his body, it gave Akaashi a little confidence. Plus, the flowers were a lovely and totally unexpected touch. Who was spoiling who here? He couldn’t help but wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you’re a basic bitch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tooru…” came Ushijima’s chastising bass voice from off-camera, clearly not thrilled with his spouse’s foul language. That was pretty par for the course, though. Wakatoshi was a blunt man, but he was never crass. However, Akaashi had heard rumors regarding Ushijima’s ability to be awfully vulgar in bed, but the black-haired lawyer did his best to shut Tooru up when he began to go down </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>particular tangent. There were just some things you didn’t want to know about your partner at the law firm, or your oldest friend, for that matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then tell me what to do! He’s waiting and we haven’t even left yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please, Aka-chan. You have the best driver in Tokyo. Even if you stopped for dinner, you would still beat the grandfather of all drivers, Ushiwaka-chan.” An annoyed grunt came from the aforementioned man, but as per usual, Tooru ignored him. “Anyway, I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>the suit for you to wear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi furrowed his dark brows. “Which one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the Armani one I bought you last year for your birthday! And I know it’s in your closet and clean because I have never seen you wear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be honest, he had forgotten about the ensemble. It was too flashy for court and while it was a good-looking outfit, he just never thought of wearing it. Perhaps, he had been saving it for just the right occasion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aka-chan, are you there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Akaashi switched the camera view around and resumed the call. “I’m here. That’s actually a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I’m full of those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi didn’t miss his opportunity to snort, commenting, “well, you’re full of shit, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mean, Aka-chan! And even after I help you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lawyer rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Tooru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In return, his best friend blew a kiss. “See you soon, Aka-chan!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be nervous.” Akaashi’s voice was composed, even, warm. They sat side-by-side in the back of the sleek, black town car, the lawyer’s driver approaching the curb out front of the event center.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not nervous.” That was the kicker, though. Bokuto wasn’t anxious about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>event</span>
  </em>
  <span>, per se. That wasn’t why his leg was shaking incessantly or his palms were still sweaty. To put in bluntly, it was because Akaashi looked like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At one point in his young life, Bokuto had heard a quote saying that sometimes, leaving something to the imagination was much sexier than revealing it all. Upon hearing those words, a horny-brained, 20-year-old, college second-year Bokuto thought this was stupid. Who wouldn’t want to see a hot person stark naked? However, once he saw Akaashi emerge from his bedroom wearing his gorgeous outfit for the evening, Bokuto then understood exactly what they had been talking about all along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lawyer’s long legs were gorgeous and toned, looking all the more shapely in his dark gray pants with a barely-visible tartan pattern, heathered throughout the material. The design even called for the fabric to be tapered at the ankle, showing off his sleek black dress shoes. Akaashi paired this look with a black turtleneck and a corresponding jacket in the same design as the pants. The most surprising element of his outfit, however, was not the purple paisley pocket square. No - it was the accessory hanging from the lawyer’s left ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a cuff earring, curling around the upper part of the shell. Dangling from the base was a simple, silver cross and two tiny, fragile-looking chains. The chains weren’t very long, and overall, the accessory was very minimalistic, but it looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good. At first, when Akaashi had stepped out, Bokuto hadn’t noticed the little piece of jewelry, as he was too busy feasting his eyes on the rest of Akaashi. Perhaps, in a different universe, the man could have just modeled for a living instead of spending all of that money on law school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So long story short, no, he wasn’t nervous about the gala or fundraiser or whatever this was. He was nervous about being around such a beautiful, ethereal, mature creature. It was completely lost on Bokuto why this man would not only want to spend time with him but also monetarily compensate him for said time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Twilight Zone</span>
  </em>
  <span> episode was this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are here, Akaashi-san,” the driver announced as he pulled up to the curb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brunette thanked the man, but before he could open his door, Bokuto set a hand on his shoulder. “Wait!” he said just a bit too loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi inquired, turning to look at this date in the dark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me get the door, okay?” And before the lawyer could argue, Bokuto was already opening up his side. The burst of cold air was welcomed against his heated face, and Bokuto hoped and prayed to every deity that Akaashi hadn’t noticed how flushed he was in the dim light of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rounding the front of the car, he came to the opposite door, Akaashi’s side closest to the curb. As he opened it, a shy smile greeted him, the lawyer’s whole demeanor taking on a demure quality. “Thank you. Bokuto-san.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My pleasure, ‘Kaashi,” he replied, holding out his hand and offering it politely to his date. Much to his pleasure, the lawyer accepted the offer, curling his hand around Bokuto’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wave of his free hand, Akaashi bid his driver farewell, shutting the door to a close before the black car pulled off, making room for the next vehicle behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we?” Bokuto asked, tilting his head toward the building while also offering out his elbow. It was a gorgeous, white brick event center with a modern look. It was easily three stories tall and had a series of concrete steps leading to the front entrance, which was a massive half-moon archway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a pleased hum, Akaashi released his date’s hand to move up and curl it around his thick bicep instead. “We shall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entering on Bokuto’s arm was a strange, otherworldly feeling. He had not expected his young date to act so gentlemanly. From the flowers, to the car door, to the very cordial escort into the venue hall, it was truly as though they were dating for real, and not just two people paired through a sugar dating app. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi knew it was dangerous to think such thoughts. In reality, he understood that Bokuto was just trying to give him his money’s worth, just like any good and worthwhile business transaction. The actions seemed genuine enough, but Akaashi knew the value in faking appearances for money. Lawyers were often called ‘white-collared conmen’, and as much as he hated it, there was sometimes truth to that statement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like something to drink?” the white-haired man inquired, Akaashi really taking a moment to admire how beautiful he looked with dual-toned locks slicked down and back. Somehow, it made those owlish, friendly eyes look piercing and predatory in all the best ways. Or perhaps, it was just the way the muted, warm light from the ostentatious chandeliers made them glow an earthy, molten gold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I would.” Waiters were perusing around with platters of hor d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne, but he could spot a fully stocked bar at the opposite end of the marbled venue. Champagne was fine, though the bubbles often upset his stomach, and he didn’t need any help adding the butterflies already present there. “We can walk and go get a wine,” he suggested, nodding in the direction of the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto shook his head. “I’ll go get you one, Akaashi! You said your boss and friends are here, right?” The lawyer nodded. “You go find them and I’ll come to find you in just a bit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to make an argument, as his date was just too quick, he instead opted to enjoy the view of the college student’s ass in that form-fitted suit as he disappeared into the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, I thought it was an optical illusion from the gym mirrors, but my god, does that boy have an ass that won’t quit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi felt himself visibly cringe at the sound of his best friend’s voice. He didn’t need to turn around to know the expression that Oikawa was surely wearing. It would be smug, smug as all fuck. His pretty brown eyes would be narrowed, thick lashes fluttering innocently, his pink mouth pulled into a knowing smirk. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that stupidly cute nose would be upturned like the absolutely snobby bastard he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On instinct and without turning around, Akaashi reached up to fiddle with this earring, running the pads of his fingers over the delicate chains. “Hello, Oikawa-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Legally, it’s Ushijima-san, but I hate when people confuse me for that brute.” With a waspy, airy quality to his step, he circled the lawyer until they were face to face. Akaashi wasn’t a short man, but he would always find his friend’s height impressive. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t frighten him,” Akaashi begged, referencing the first comment Tooru had made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frighten him? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Please, like anything could scare that beefcake of a man.” Akaashi leveled the beautiful brunette with a stare, forcing Tooru to amend his statement. “Alright, perhaps my husband could, be we all know full well that Wakatoshi was just cursed with a horrendous mean-mug and burly stature even though he is just a big ol’ softy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi had seen the man be ruthless on two different kinds of courts: the court of law as well as the volleyball court, the latter occurring during their days back at university. The powerhouse of a southpaw could have gone pro, but much like Akaashi, their familial names forced them into their profession under the pressure of maintaining the prestige of their lineage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They always considered themselves lucky, though, he and Ushijima alike. Even though their fates were decided because they were simply born into aristocratic families, they each had loving and accepting parents. Being gay men in high-society Tokyo wasn’t always easy, but blessedly, neither of their parents disowned them. They could be gay, they just had to be lawyers as well. It wasn’t so bad, he supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, as loathe as he was to admit this, and would never say it aloud out of fear of making his dear friend’s head all the bigger, but Oikawa was hard </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to love. He and Ushijima had been college sweethearts, a setter and an ace, a dynamic pair. Akaashi could easily recall the tale of when Ushijima brought his boyfriend home for the first time. Apparently, the large man had never dated anyone previously and had always had his eyes on Oikawa ever since their first tournament back in middle school. That was well over twenty years ago now, and a part of Akaashi longed for a love story like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not Ushijima-san’s mouth I worry about, it is yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru scoffed at that, preening an invisible piece of lint from his warm gold blazer. The material was a bit too flashy for Akaashi’s taste, but it looked so fitting on his dear friend. He paired it with a black bowtie and trim cut slacks. Even his wingtip dress shoes were a shiny black, but if they caught the light just right, Akaashi’s eye could catch tiny flecks of gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, that’s fair. I can promise to be on my best behavior, but I cannot say the same for Suga-chan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the sound of his other best friend’s name, Akaashi couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle that doubled as a sigh. Somewhere, the eccentric artist was running around, schmoozing with the high society folk. It was actually how the pretty blonde had come to join their group. Despite his occupation being starkly different from Akaashi’s, he was a warm and welcome presence. A few years ago, at a fundraiser much like this one, Sugawara had donated pieces for auction. It was a bold move, especially as an up-and-coming painter, but the young man was confident in his work. It paid off, and by the end of that night, he had commissioned three other pieces, including one for Oikawa Tooru. The gorgeous pastel landscape still hung front and center in the Ushijima home, in a high-rise similar to Akaashi’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen him yet tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To that, Oikawa shook his head. “No, but I did see Daichi near the buffet with a plate full of shrimp, so I imagine his beloved isn’t too far away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And where is your beloved?” Akaashi inquired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your boss is off somewhere either kissing ass or catching up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kiyoomi</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Akaashi didn’t miss the way Tooru spoke the black-haired man’s name like it was a vile curse word. Atsumu’s husband was someone Akaashi knew quite well, and it was no secret that Tooru and Sakusa despised each other. Akaashi suspected it was due to the confession that Wakatoshi had received from the curly-haired wing spiker back in college, months before Oikawa and Ushijima had officially become an item. However, if memory served him correctly, it was that very confession that drove Oikawa to get off his ass and finally agree to a date with the ace. From there, the rest was history. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And also, to Oikawa’s credit, the man did have a bit of a, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>prickly</span>
  </em>
  <span> personality. He was a good person, in Akaashi’s opinion, and an excellent juxtaposition next to his husband Atsumu. The sun and moon were those two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t realize he would be here,” Akaashi commented. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, you know,” Tooru said flippantly with a disregarding wave of his hand, “his family has more money than the Emperor and they always make him come to stuff like this if Atsumu doesn’t have a game.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto’s familiar voice greeted, the large man practically materializing at his side, a glass of dark red wine in hand. “Sorry that it took me so long. Some really nice silver-haired guy complimented my tux and was asking me all kinds of questions. He even asked for the circumference of my bicep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi gratefully accepted the proffered glass, taking a hurried gulp to hide his humiliation while Oikawa began to double over with laughter. It seemed as though Suga was up to his shenanigans after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, you got caught in Suga-chan’s claws,” Tooru purred, reaching out to flirtatiously pat the college student’s broad-set shoulder. “He probably recognized you from the screenshots of your pictures that Aka-chan texted us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A choking cough became caught in Akaashi’s throat at the embarrassing call-out, shame turning his face the color of the beverage in his glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Kaashi sent you pictures of me?” Bokuto inquired, gray eyebrows shooting up high on his forehead, almost disappearing under the swoop of his bangs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did!” Tooru continued, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “And they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>divine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. These are the biceps of a volleyball player. And trust me, I would know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, are you--?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Bokuto didn’t get to finish his question. “The Grand King, The Savior Setter, </span>
  <em>
    <span>THE</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oikawa Tooru of Tokyo University? Why yes, I am. Have you heard of me? Graduating class of 2007?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god!! It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>you!! I have a poster of you and your whole team on my wall back home in Sendai! Holy shit, you haven’t aged a day! You’re married to Japan’s Canon, aren’t you? Ushijima Wakatoshi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I am indeed! And he is stomping about somewhere, that overgrown oaf. Would you like to say hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto, the poor boy, looking like he was about to explode, giddily bounced on the balls of his feet. “Can I seriously?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, darling! And what was your name, by the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The college student eagerly thrust his hand forward, though not before wiping his palm on his pant leg. “I am Bokuto Koutarou! I also play for Tokyo University!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa shook his proffered hand, his delicate fingers looking so long and slender next to his date’s large palms. “Bo-chan, follow me. I’d love to show you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi took a long sip of his wine. Tonight was going to be a very long night. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for all of the love you have left on this fic so far!! It truly means a lot. I hope you don't mind splitting the gala up into two chapters. I really wanted to bring you all an update, and editing chapters over 6k or so just makes my brain hurt lol. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! What shenanigans will our boys get into next?!</p><p>As always, please say hello on twitter or tumblr! @photogiraffe77</p><p><b> FAN ART ALERT: </b> Y'all, please don't miss out on this incredible art of Bo's gym pic for Insta!! BLAKE YOU ARE AMAZING!! See it <a href="https://bbyblakeforthewin.tumblr.com/post/646053271742676992/oooooo-bokuto-gym-pics-check-out-a-sweet">here</a>.<br/>Please leave her love in the comments!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Gala: Part II (Don't Let Me Fall)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you guys are well!</p><p>I am so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter hashed out. I hit a bit of a roadblock as far as what I was wanting to happen next, and I wanted some time to hash that out.</p><p>I appreciate all the love and support in this story so far! Love you all!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bokuto hadn’t the faintest idea what to expect when it came to meeting two of his volleyball idols in real life, but it certainly wasn’t what he got - and not in a bad way.</p><p>Ushijima Wakatoshi was just as stoic in person as he was on the court, golden-green eyes sharp, almost like an eagle’s. His body, despite being in his late 30’s, was still so broad and powerful and it made Bokuto feel small, even though they were damn near the same size. The way he spoke was also intelligent and calculated, but not snobby or standoffish. Rather, he seemed kind, in his own way. </p><p>There was a quote that said, ‘never meet your heroes’, but Bokuto thought that was bullshit.</p><p>“I still can’t believe I am meeting you,” gushed the college student for probably the tenth time in just a few minutes, bouncing on the balls of his feet, nervous tension quaking through his whole body. </p><p>The large lawyer let out a small laugh at the younger man’s enthusiastic candor. </p><p>“Ushiwaka-chan is <em> hardly </em> the one you should be fanboying over when I am present and accounted for!” Oikawa huffed, turning his posh nose in the air. His simpering attitude was really quite cute and charming. It was clear why he was known as the ‘King of the Court’ back in his formative years.</p><p>“Oh my gosh, and you’re awesome, too!” Bokuto insisted, shifting to make eye contact with the beautiful brunette (not as beautiful as Akaashi, though.) “But I am an ace and Ushijima was an ace, so I guess I can’t help it!” </p><p>“You have had plenty of admirers over the years,” Ushijima reminded his spouse, reaching out to place a large hand on the small of the former setter’s back. “Perhaps I could have just this one?” Despite his voice not changing much in inflection, there was a little glint in his eye that hinted that he was teasing.</p><p>A petulant whine left Oikawa’s throat, and Bokuto watched in awe as it was silenced with a soft kiss to the former setter’s lips. A pink flush took to the shorter husband’s cheeks at the token of affection, the man quickly replacing the kiss with a long sip of white wine. </p><p>“So, you play for Tokyo University, yes?” The lawyer pulled his husband closer to his side, Oikawa still with a bit of a red face, though his sulky expression was quickly melting away. “How is your team performing this year? I try to keep up, but sometimes it is difficult with my schedule.”</p><p>“Oh my gosh, no dude! I bet you’re like, super busy.” Bokuto held up his hands as a sign of dismissal. “But we’re doing great! We have a collegiate tournament coming up as well as some scrimmages against a few V-League teams, which is exciting - a real chance to play with the pros! What an honor!” It really was something to get stoked about. V-League teams didn’t always have the time to partake in such scrimmages due to their arduous schedules, but the fact that not one, but <em> three </em>teams would be participating in the tournament was huge! And it was something Bokuto was looking forward to very much. </p><p>The large lawyer’s brows perked up that. “V-League, you say?” he asked, sharp eyes flittering to the space over Bokuto’s shoulder. The college student turned around, pleased to be greeted with his date’s handsome face. “Did you know that Akaashi’s former brother-in-law coaches the Black Jackals?”</p><p><em> Former brother-in-law? </em> Was Akaashi married before? But also - <em> he coaches the Black Jackals?! </em>That would mean that Miya Atsumu was...</p><p>This comment seemed to stun his date as well, choking on a sip of his drink. A furious flush washed over him, coloring the long expanse of his neck scarlet before disappearing down the collar of his pressed button-up. </p><p>“Ushijima-san,” Akaashi breathed, waving his hand, “Osamu and I were never married.”</p><p>“Forgive me,” the former ace interjected, “I tend to forget, as it was so close to the wedding when you broke up.”</p><p>“<em> Honey</em>,” Tooru seethed between clenched teeth, smile wide and bright but oh so venomous. Bokuto thanked his lucky stars that he was not on the receiving end of such a look, though the man’s husband seemed completely unphased by the demonic glint in his hazel eyes. “Why don’t we go see what flavors of mini-cupcakes the caterer is offering, hmm?”</p><p>Olive green eyes snapped to the tall brunette’s suggestion. “Do you think they have red velvet?” His tone was almost innocently child-like that Bokuto could have giggled.</p><p>“I think we should go and find out, yeah?” That sentence was punctuated with a firm slap to a broad shoulder, the sheer brutality of it causing Bokuto to wince, though once again, his date’s business partner seemed totally unaffected at the contact. </p><p>As the duo sauntered off, Oikawa throwing over his shoulder a promise to return, Bokuto looked back at Akaashi. An unreadable expression was painted on his fine features, his dark brows furrowed. In his hand, he held onto his wine glass with enough force to pale the knuckles on his long fingers. </p><p>After a quiet moment, Bokuto went to speak but found himself being cut off by an even whisper.</p><p>“It was a long time ago.”</p><p>Bokuto tilted his head to the side, the action resembling that of a curious owl. “What was, ‘Kaashi?”</p><p>However, the leveled look he received from stormy, cerulean eyes was about enough to knock him off his feet. The irises were composed of icy waters, deep and dark, like an arctic ocean. </p><p>A chill ran down his spine.</p><p>Though suddenly, they warmed over, and Akaashi looked at his wine glass. At his side, his free hand clenched and unclenched, long fingers splaying nervously over the material of his dress pants. “I am sorry, I just haven’t talked about it in a while.”</p><p>“We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to,” Bokuto found himself offering, still a bit dazed at the roller coaster of emotions seeming to be flooding over his date. “It’s not really any of my business.”</p><p>These seemed to be the correct magic words, Akaashi’s shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, his clenched jaw slackening just a little bit. “I think that would be best, Bokuto-san.”</p><p>In an effort to salvage the mood, the college student smiled broadly, offering his elbow to the beautiful lawyer. “What do you say we go to the buffet, yeah? I really love those little shrimps. I can flip them into my mouth! I have even got one to do like, a triple spin!”</p><p>At that comment, something truly inspiring happened: Akaashi smiled. It wasn’t a fake one, either. This was genuine, causing the barely visible crow’s feet to crinkle at the corners of his gorgeous eyes, the once-frigid and turbulent waters now calm and serene, resembling that of a mirrored mountain lake. It was paired with a raw laugh, though it was still soft and sophisticated. </p><p>“I haven’t tried that before.”</p><p>“First time for everything, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto supplied with a wink. </p><p>A warm hand curled around the bulk of the volleyball player’s bicep, fingers fanning over broad muscle. “Indeed so.”</p><p>*</p><p>The evening hadn’t been a whole disaster, not yet. Though Akaashi couldn’t stop downing that delicious (and expensive, but who cares, it’s a party, right?) red wine. Despite his date’s valiant efforts to cheer him up, there was still a resonating humiliation pooling in the pit of his stomach. Yes, their breakup was years ago, but acknowledging that Osamu was his ex-<em>fiance</em> was still a difficult task. It was one thing to have an ex-boyfriend - that happened all the time, to anyone. </p><p>But to break off an engagement? Well, that truly felt shameful.</p><p>“Wow, that must be some kind of record!” It was Suga’s warm voice that interrupted his thoughts, pulling him from the spiral he found himself slipping into. The silver-haired artist was referencing, of course, to Bokuto, the beefcake standing in front of the white-clothed buffet table with a small appetizer plate piled with mini cocktail shrimp. </p><p>A touch of amusement crossed Akaashi’s lips as he watched Bokuto flip his tenth consecutive shrimp into his mouth, the pink shellfish landing on his outstretched tongue, like how a child might catch a falling snowflake. It was silly, maybe, but still quite impressive.</p><p>“Nah,” the college student shook his head. “Ten is nothing. Kuroo got to fifty one time.”</p><p>To that, Suga let out an impressed wolf whistle. “Fifty? Sweet Jesus. Did he get sick?”</p><p>Golden eyes widened, sparkling with humor. “Puked everywhere.”</p><p>“Holy shit.”</p><p>“I know right?”</p><p>“Suga-san.” As much as Akaashi hated interrupting such a dignified conversation, “how is the auction for your pieces going?”</p><p>His friend reached out and took a handful of shrimp from Bokuto’s plate, the college student seeming to not mind one bit. “I think they are going for a fair price, so I just hope it brings in money for the kids.” The comment was sincere, of course, the cause near and dear to the artist’s heart. Once upon a time, Sugawara had lived in an orphanage, not adopted by a family until he was nearly ten. Whatever proceeds were procured today, they would be worthwhile. </p><p>“I am sure it will help considerably,” Akaashi offered. Once upon a time, he had considered going into family law, but the idea of being an attorney for two people getting a divorce and splitting up kids… well, it hurt his heart to see two people fall out of love. </p><p>“Hey have you guys seen Suga?” It was Daichi’s voice, tinged with worry, as he approached from the back. Akaashi turned and was met with a view of the detective’s worried face, flushed red. </p><p>“I’m right here, babe!” Suga greeted through a mouthful of food, waving his hand innocently.</p><p>“Koushi!” Daichi gasped, his expression turning stern. “I have been looking for you everywhere! I even went outside and checked!” Well, that explained his pink cheeks and his wet hair. It must have been raining. </p><p>“I’ve been enjoying this stud muffin’s shrimp,” he gestured to Bokuto with his free hand. “You’re Bokuto Kouturo, right? The college volleyball player?”</p><p>The white-haired man nodded, golden eyes bright. “Yeah, that’s me!”</p><p>“Okay, I know I groped your biceps earlier but I’m not gonna apologize for it.”</p><p>“Koushi!” Daichi hissed, facepalming at his spouse’s crass behavior. “You need to apologize!”</p><p>“It’s okay! Really!” Bokuto insisted, watching as Suga tore through the remainder of the food on his plate. “I could take my jacket off it you wanted to check them out without a barrier--”</p><p>Simultaneously, Daichi and Akaashi let out a resounding ‘no’, firmly putting their foot down on the matter. To that, Suga simpered, setting the plate down on some passing waiter’s tray.</p><p>“Alright, fine. Y’all are no fun,” he rolled out a bottom lip in an adorable pout. Akaashi knew that look - it was the look that Suga gave in order to procure whatever he wanted from his spouse.</p><p>“Suga, stop groping other guy’s arms!” That was a request unlikely to stick, as everyone knew there was no bigger flirt than one Sugawara Koushi, giving even Oikawa a run for his money. However, he was also so grossly in love with his husband that all of his flirting was clearly just for show. “I was looking for you because someone made an inquiry about a commission. Would you like to go meet them?” </p><p>“Better idea, and hear me out,” Suga began, taking a sauntering step toward the broad-shouldered detective. “How about you whisk me away super romantically and then we bang in a broom closet somewhere?”</p><p>Yeah, Akaashi was <em> not </em>drunk enough for this. Closing his eyes, he tilted back the last of the rich red wine, letting it slide down his throat, completely ignoring the balking sound from Daichi and the superfluous giggle from Suga. He was so embarrassed, he couldn’t even bring himself to look at how his own date was reacting to such a forward proposal. This was the way the pair behaved, however, and there was no changing them.</p><p>“Koushi, oh my god,” Daichi lamented, grabbing his spouse’s hand, pulling him in the direction of what Akaashi hoped was the partygoer inquiring about a commission and not of the aforementioned broom closet. </p><p>“Toodles!” Suga yelled, letting himself be whisked away. By the expression on his face, Akaashi was willing to wager that Suga still thought the closet to be a viable option. </p><p>“They’re fun!” Bokuto commented, taking a step closer to Akaashi. </p><p>“They’re… something,” he admitted dryly, staring down at his empty glass. The alcohol was starting to get to him a bit, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. Just a little more loose-limbed, though no less hyper-aware of their situation. He and Bokuto didn’t know each other well at all, yet the younger man seemed to be becoming more and more privy to the lawyer’s life, even the most intimate of details he didn’t want to share. He couldn’t fault Ushijima for that comment, though, as it was the truth. </p><p>However, one thing did serve as a surprise. </p><p>“I know you said we didn’t have to talk about my previous relationship,” Akaashi started, not sure where his voice was coming from, “but I do have a question for you. I know you said that you wanted to go pro, and I am sure Atsu--,” he cleared his throat, remembering to stay formal, “I mean, Coach Miya, would be happy to have an ace like you on his team. If you want, I could speak to him and put in a good word. Is that something you would be interested in?”</p><p>This seemed to surprise the tall man, features softening a little. “No, that’s alright, ‘Kaashi,” his tone was warm and wistful, “if I’m good enough to play for a Coach like him, then I can prove that at the upcoming tournament.”</p><p>“You don’t want an in?” Didn’t everyone? Who wouldn’t take a leg up, a connection like that, and run with it? Sure, he was comping Bokuto for his time, but wouldn’t he also want to take advantage of such a rare opportunity? What were the odds that his sugar daddy would also be old friends with a pro coach, as well as former all-star college players? </p><p>There was a fire present in those amber irises, though, smoldering with pride. “Thank you,” he replied evenly, “but I want to earn my spot.” There was a serious quality to those words, one Akaashi didn’t think could come from such an otherwise fun-loving goofball. Maybe there was more to this man than met the eye.</p><p>“I am sure you will impress everyone you meet,” Akaashi assured him. Holding up his empty glass, he opted to change the topic. “How about a refill?”</p><p>*</p><p>“I shit you not, the whole time we were there, they kept calling us Boruto and Kakashi! We even pledged under those names and everything!” </p><p>Maybe he was just a bit too tipsy, or maybe it was genuinely funny. Either way, Akaashi couldn’t hold his giggles in, the back of his hand pressed to his reddened lips in an attempt to filter his laughter. The story was regaling, far more entertaining than whatever the other snooty socialites were walking around and discussing. Everyone seemed to be engaged in a never-ended pissing contest: whose kid was studying what abroad, whose stocks were doing better in the foreign trading market, who traveled where and did this and saw that. </p><p>But Bokuto’s tale was genuine, much like everything else about him, his features so animated and open and earnest as he recalled a time during his freshman year where he and his best friend, the bed-headed man Akaashi had seen at the cafe that day, had accidentally joined a fraternity during some sort of pledge party. The pair didn’t actually <em>want </em>to join, they just wanted the free booze that night, so they gave fabricated aliases. How those names made the list when they were <em>hardly </em>believable, pulled from one of the largest manga and anime franchises in the world, was absolutely beyond the lawyer’s fathom. In all fairness, though, they were just drunk college kids at the end of the day, so who could blame them? </p><p>“Did you ever go back to the Kappa Phi house?” Akaashi inquired, leaning in closer. It was hard to ignore the fact that their calves were touching under the table, the pair seated at a secluded table at the back of the reception hall. The lighting was low and warm, making the atmosphere all the more intimate than it probably needed to be. Plus, the wine he had consumed pulsed just as red as the blood in his veins, wrapping him in a hazy layer. He wasn’t drunk - he knew everything his date was saying, knew exactly where they were, and approximately what time it was. It was just that everything had a dream-like layer, burning him a little hotter. </p><p>“Yeah, we go back sometimes,” Bokuto admitted with a smile, propping his face up on his open palm, shifting so that the full weight of his gaze settled on Akaashi. Under normal circumstances, with different company, it would make him nervous. But Bokuto didn’t make him nervous - didn’t rile up his anxiety, make him question himself. For whatever reason that he was a little too inebriated to process, Bokuto made him feel like himself. It was too early in their arrangement to be having this thought, the one sober brain cell Akaashi had left tried to scream at him, but he aptly ignored it - that was something he would happily process at a later time.</p><p>“Do you have fun there?”</p><p>“Oh, a lot of fun! Probably too much fun, especially my sophomore year. If it wasn’t for Kuroo saving my ass, who knows how I would have passed Human A&amp;P.” </p><p>“Mmm, college was fun,” Akaashi recalled, swirling around the last of his wine left in his glass. He tilted his head back to look up at the ornate ceiling, conjuring up the memories of about fifteen years prior.</p><p>“‘Kaashi, were you wild in college?” There was a teasing undertone to his question.</p><p>“Wild?” The lawyer parroted, clearly amused, letting out a little huff. “No, I don’t think I was, not compared to Tooru, at least. But I had my fun all the same, I think.”</p><p>“You’re fun now,” Bokuto commented sincerely. In Akaashi’s peripheral, he caught sight of the younger man’s soft expression. From underneath the table, the spot where their legs intersected felt all the more exhilarating. </p><p>“You’re kind to say that.”</p><p>“It’s true! Look at your earring.” Unexpectedly, Bokuto reached out, calloused fingers gracefully tracing the shell of his ear, brushing up against the cool metal. Akaashi swallowed whatever sound he was attempting to make, startled at just how electric that touch felt. It was one thing to brush up against the other’s arm or to bump legs under the table, as they were wearing clothes. But the raw contact of skin-on-skin was something he hadn’t felt for so long that even this innocent and otherwise platonic touch was positively overwhelming. “Would an unfun guy have an earring?” </p><p>The larger man seemed completely unaware of the distress (Pleasure? Distress… no, pleasure. Maybe.) he was causing his date, too enthralled at simply tracing the pad of his finger over the minimal piece of jewelry, and in turn, the sensitive skin of Akaashi’s ear. </p><p>“Bokuto-san?” The name sounded heavy in his throat, wavering and unsteady.</p><p>The college student blinked owlishly, slowly drawing his hand away. “Yeah?”</p><p>“It is getting late.” This much was true, as the crowd thinning out, the more elderly of the attendees long gone. Across the hall, he could still spot Tooru, leaning heavily into his husband’s mass, clearly more than a little drunk as he spoke animatedly to a group of women, hands moving excitedly. </p><p>“Oh,” he replied, sounding almost disappointed. “I suppose it is.”</p><p>“Would you like a ride home?” </p><p>Sheepishly, he pawed at the back of his thick neck, a muted pink touching his cheeks, something Akaashi suspected had little to do with the alcohol he had consumed. “I don’t want to be a bother.”</p><p>“It wouldn't be,” Akaashi insisted. “The trains have probably stopped running as well, so it would be a difficult walk back.”</p><p>The college student considered that for a moment, then nodded. Relief washed over the lawyer - he would not feel right sending his date home under these circumstances. He felt responsible for ensuring that the man made it home safely. Also, perhaps, some smaller part of him just wanted another half hour alone with the gorgeous, younger man, though he was apprehensive to admit such a thing. </p><p>“Alright, then let’s head out front. I imagine my driver should be there waiting.” </p><p>They both rose to their feet, Akaashi swaying ever so slightly at the change in altitude. Instinctively, he reached for the closest solid figure, and that just so happened to be Bokuto. Long fingers curled into the rich fabric of his navy suit, and at the realization of what he had done, Akaashi immediately let go.</p><p>“Are you alright, ‘Kaashi?” His concern was well-merited, in truth. But being who he was, the brunette waved it off. </p><p>“I am fine, thank you, Bokuto-san.” </p><p>The younger man didn’t argue, only resumed walking, Akaashi at his side. As they exited the venue, Bokuto was back at it, chattering away about meeting his ‘volleyball idols’, ecstatic about having done so. It was incredibly endearing, and Akaashi didn’t even dare think of interrupting. </p><p>The weather outside had grown less than appealing during the duration of the gala, the once cool weather turning to ice rain. Paired with a nasty wind, cold and jarring, it was a recipe for an early winter storm. Down the small series of steps, a recognizable black sedan was pulled up to the curb, idling as a promise of reprieve from the chill. Neither man had worn heavy coats over their suit jackets, and the stinging bite through the breathable fabric was enough to rattle Akaashi’s bones.</p><p>“The car is just down there,” the lawyer gestured in that direction, continuing to walk. However, the first stair appeared all too soon, and in a staccatoed step, the heel of his expensive leather dress shoe met a strip of black ice. A shift of momentum occurred, the night sky suddenly appearing above him, gray and sullen, though absorbing the orange and blue lights of the city, refracting and reflecting. It was the last thing he saw before his eyes slipped closed. His heart lurched in his chest, doubly certain that the next sensation he would feel was the back of his head connecting to the concrete as a swell of pain took to his ankle. </p><p>However, this wasn’t the case. Around him was a sturdy heat, unbreakable and strong yet so very pliable and soft. The smell of sandalwood intoxicated him more than any pricey merlot ever could, and when he opened his eyes once more, he was surprised to be struck with sparkling gold, brimmed with worry.</p><p>“Akaashi? Are you alright?” </p><p>It took a moment, a few heart beats passing, to place every sensation in his body. The proximity of his date, the weight of his strong, toned arms, the way the water clung to his heavy black lashes…</p><p>The searing pain in his left ankle.</p><p>“My leg,” he stated rather dumbly, a sharp tingling crawling up the joint, hot and wicked. “I think I twisted my leg.”</p><p>As though he weighed nothing, which was far from the truth, his date scooped him up and began his ascent to the vehicle. The driver must have seen what happened, as he was waiting by the door, holding it open for the pair.</p><p>“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi protested, throwing his arms around the other’s neck in an attempt to steady himself, thoughts still reeling about what was happening. One of Bokuto’s arms was under the bend of his knees, the other positioned firmly across the expanse of Akaashi’s back. Yes, his date may be a college athlete, but Akaashi still worked out, and was composed of trim muscle from swimming. That, and he was tall, almost every bit as tall as the man carrying him. And yet, the beefcake toted him about as though he were the world’s most delicate sack of potatoes. </p><p>“Watch your head,” was all he offered in response, dipping down to lower the lawyer to the leather. The seats were heated, but they didn’t need to be, not when Bokuto was <em> this </em>close, close enough to examine the dark roots protruding from his bleached white hair, to count each individual eyelash in the heavy fan framing his mysterious, molten eyes, to feel suffocated, in the best sense of the word, by his fresh sandalwood cologne. No, the space between them was so little, and the shared body heat was enough to melt him.</p><p>Somehow, he refrained a whine as the taller man pulled away, standing up, hand on the doorframe. “Are you okay, Akaashi?” he checked once again.</p><p>The lawyer nodded, biting his lip. His leg hurt like hell, but he wasn’t going to complain, not like this. </p><p>“Back to his penthouse?” he heard his driver ask, though the sound was muffled from inside the car, the door falling to a close, Bokuto being mindful of Akaashi’s space.</p><p>“Yes, please,” Bokuto instructed as he made his way around to the other side, opening up the door opposite from Akaashi.</p><p>Carefully, he lowered himself into the seat, shutting his door, sealing them away from the wind and the rain. </p><p>“We’re going back to your house, or would you rather go to a hospital?”</p><p>“No, that is quite unnecessary.” A hospital seemed a bit overkill in this situation. “But thank you.”</p><p>“How is your ankle?” he asked, pointing to the offending ligament right as the driver steered them away from the curb.</p><p>“It’s… fine.” It was a lie and they both knew it. Akaashi considered himself one to have a fairly high pain tolerance, especially after everything he had gone through with his shoulder. However, he had never taken an injury to one of his ankles, and while it was likely just a mild sprain, for whatever reason, it hurt like hell.</p><p>“May I see it?”</p><p>The lawyer’s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced up at his date. “See it?”</p><p>“Yeah, I know it’s dark, but I can at least feel at it a little bit. I know I seem kind of like an idiot,” he voice took on a boyish quality then, “but I promise to be very gentle! My patients at the school say I’m very good.”</p><p>Oh, that’s right. Bokuto was majoring in physical therapy, a mildly twisted ankle like this was probably very run-of-the-mill for someone like him. Agreeing, he positioned himself so that he could put his foot in the other man’s lap, long leg draped across the seat. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he added for good measure, though the comment seemed to fall on deaf ears.</p><p>In the passing lights of the streetlamps, it was easy to see just how seriously Bokuto took his task. Gingerly, he untied the lawyer’s shoelaces before slipping off the leather Oxford and lowering it to the floorboard. This next step was a bit trickier, and Akaashi’s hand dug into the meat of his own thigh as Bokuto peeled off his black dress sock. Had he been soberer, or in less pain, he would have found the will to be embarrassed about such a fine specimen touching his sweaty sock and foot, but he couldn’t bear that sort of emotional discomfort at the moment. </p><p>Cool hands made their way to inflamed skin, Akaashi involuntarily hissing at the contact. Bokuto let out a thoughtful hum, thumbs carefully mapping out where it was swollen. It wasn’t too bad, but considering it just happened, they would need an ice pack to really keep it from ballooning.</p><p>“Verdict?” Akaashi asked.</p><p>Another thoughtful hum, but Bokuto didn’t remove his hands. And truthfully, Akaashi didn’t want him to. “I think it was twisted pretty bad. But when we get up to your penthouse, I will help fix it up so that it doesn’t get worse.”</p><p>“You don’t have to--” but his protest died on his tongue as Bokuto laid his free hand on top of Akaashi’s, the one still positioned on his thigh.</p><p>“But I want to.”</p><p>Well, for the man who could dispute or challenge just about anything, he couldn’t find a reason to argue with that. “Alright,” he agreed, turning his gaze to look at the passing city buildings. “But just enough to get settled in.”</p><p>*</p><p>Though the trip wasn’t overly long, Bokuto found himself relieved that his date had fallen asleep. He couldn’t be very comfortable, though, not with the way he was laying, his shoulder propped up against the door, his chin tilted forward, his injured leg strewn across the seat, foot still propped in Bokuto’s lap. But still, rest was rest. Not only was the gala probably exhausting, there was still all the work the attorney had done earlier in the day. </p><p>On a Saturday. </p><p>Which was supposed to be his day off.</p><p>If Akaashi didn’t rest and take proper care of himself, he was going to run himself ragged, the minor sprain the least of his concerns. </p><p>The injury wasn’t likely going to cause any permanent damage, though Bokuto was going to recommend him to see a doctor come Monday, just to be sure. After all, he was just a student and he couldn’t pass Calculus, so what did he know?</p><p>Finally, they approached the lawyer’s high rise, and upon remembering what floor Akaashi lived on, Bokuto felt all the more grateful for the invention of elevators. </p><p>“Do you need any help getting him up?” the driver turned in his seat and asked. Behind him, the windshield wipers pushed the cold rain around the smooth pane of glass, a cathartic squeak occurring with each rhythmic passing. </p><p>“No, thank you though, sir,” Bokuto replied, carefully sliding off of his seat and putting the black-haired man’s foot back on the leather. At that, Akaashi stirred, blue eyes coming open.</p><p>“Are we here?” he asked, voice syrupy from sleep.</p><p>“Yeah, but don’t get up! I’ll come around and help you!” He didn’t wait for the opportunity to be told ‘no’, not in this instance, not when he could actually help. Again, he was just a student, but poor Akaashi lived alone in that big ole apartment. Who would bring him a glass of water? Or Tylenol? Or an ice pack? It was nearly impossible to hobble about in such a space, furniture too spread apart to have a consistent <em>something </em>to hold onto. No way - Akaashi wouldn’t do this alone.</p><p>By the time he arrived at Akaashi's door, the lawyer had resituated himself in the seat and was reaching for his abandoned sock and shoe.</p><p>“Don’t worry about that,” the driver tossed over his shoulder, “I can bring it up to you tomorrow.”</p><p>“I can carry it,” Akaashi insisted through a wince, grabbing onto the Oxford. </p><p>“I can carry you.”</p><p>“That won’t be necessary.”</p><p>“It’s still raining and you have on one shoe.” Bokuto narrowed his eyes to a fine point. With the way his ankle had taken to swelling, there would be no way that they could get the show back on comfortably, or without causing more damage. </p><p>Looking exceptionally conflicted, Akaashi finally sighed, leaving the shoe on the seat. “Fine,” he conceded, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but just until we’re inside the building.”</p><p>Bokuto agreed but in reality, he had other plans - he would carry Akaashi all the way to his sofa, just to be extra sure. The lawyer swung his legs outside the car, holding open his arms. Delicately, as to not jostle his injury, Akaashi was swept off of his feet for the second time that night. He was easy to carry, really, surprisingly light for a man of his build. As the college student thanked the driver, making his way to the front of the tall building, Akaashi buried his face in the crook of Bokuto’s neck. The blush he was sporting was painfully obvious, even if the college student didn’t glance down and see it for himself. The embarrassment overwhelmed the large body in his arms, coming off of him like a furnace.</p><p>“Do you always make it a habit to carry drunk, clumsy lawyers into their apartment?" Akaashi murmured against the skin of Bokuto’s neck.</p><p>“Only the most beautiful ones,” he replied without missing a beat, drawing the man tighter into him. A flustered sound left the lawyer’s throat, bordering on a guffaw, but neither said anything more as they entered the lobby, the doorman holding open the door for them.</p><p>“You may put me down now,” Akaashi suggested, but still, the younger man shook his head, beelining toward the elevator bank.</p><p>“How can you stand in an elevator in this condition, ‘Kaashi?” he winked, and the lawyer blushed yet again, turning a furious red. A pout painted his lips, mimicking the one Oikawa had given them all earlier that evening.</p><p>It was terribly cute.</p><p>“I can stand on my good leg.” Always persistent, but Bokuto chuckled, chalking that up to him being a lawyer. Practicing caution, the volleyball player allowed his date to lower himself down to his good right foot, his left still curled slightly behind him. In the harsh fluorescent glare of the elevator lights, it was much easier to tell the extent of the damage. Long story short: swollen, and definitely sprained.</p><p>Thankfully, the lawyer still clung to Bokuto, using him as a balance support. One arm stayed wrapped around the other’s trim waist - there was no way in hell he was going to let Akaashi fall.</p><p>“I should haven’t drunk so much,” he admitted finally, voice barely above a whisper, nearly lost to the hum of the car ascending. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It was icy outside, ‘Kaashi! Anyone would have slipped.”</p><p>“You didn’t.”</p><p>Bokuto beamed, wide and toothy. “Yeah, but I had to be there to catch you, right?”</p><p>Thankfully, this pulled yet another small laugh from the man. “Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you, Bokuto-san?”</p><p>“Where else would I look?”</p><p>The chime dinged at that moment, and yet again, Bokuto reached down to scoop up his date. There was no cry of protest this time, however, Akaashi just leaned into the younger man’s barrel chest, completely unresistant. </p><p>Once through the door, Bokuto thanking whatever contractor decided to install a door wide enough that one grown man could carry another grown man through the threshold bridal style with relative ease, the lawyer requested to be deposited on the couch.</p><p>“Thank you,” Akaashi hummed once fully lowered into the plush material. It was obvious how tired he was, given the small bags under his perfect eyes, falling slightly lidded from exhaustion.</p><p>“Of course! Where do you keep your medicine? And I’ll make you some tea, too.”</p><p>It seemed as though the sugar daddy was finally catching on to the fact that Bokuto wasn’t going to let him do much of anything, not in his sorry state. Following instructions to the letter, Bokuto flitted about the house (after removing his own wet shoes, of course.) First, he started on the hot water for tea, firing up the fancy-schmancy electric kettle on the counter. Then, he took the master bathroom, fetching a bottle of ibuprofen. By the time he returned, the lawyer had removed his other shoe as well as his suit jacket and tie, leaving him propped up against the arm of the sofa. The top three buttons of his dress shirt were undone, showing off a beautiful canyon of collarbone, some of the rainwater still pooling there. </p><p>“Uh, here you are,” Bokuto offered the pill bottle, suddenly remembering that he was completing a task and that task was <em>not </em>staring like some sort of creeper. </p><p>“May I have some water?”</p><p>“Of course!” Bokuto yelped, doubling back to the kitchen. There was a water bottle in the fridge, so that was easy enough. He pressed it to his feverish face briefly, a stern reminder to <em>cool the fuck down</em>. With that and an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped in a tea towel, he helped situate Akaashi. </p><p>“Here, take a couple of the ibuprofen, and let’s prop your foot.” The lawyer was obedient, allowing the younger man to place his foot up on one of the half dozen throw pillows. He winced at the movement, but otherwise, seemed alright. “Are you in a lot of pain?” he inquired as he placed the ice pack against the bruising skin.</p><p>“It’s not as bad as my shoulder injury,” Akaashi supplied with a weak smile. “So I’m alright. Granted, I’m much older now.”</p><p>Bokuto had to laugh at that comment - Akaashi was hardly old at all. “You’re still young!”</p><p>Another indignant scoff. “Hardly.”</p><p>“Young and hot.”</p><p>“Bokuto-san, you must still be drunk.” Tension took to the hunched set of his shoulders, his large hands coming up to touch his flustered face. “I am staring forty in the face.”</p><p>“Forty is the new twenty.”</p><p>“Maybe you do need a better Calculus tutor.”</p><p>A full belly laugh took to Bokuto’s chest then. “Damn, ‘Kaashi! You got me good!”</p><p>The diminutive, yet pleased smile that pulled at his full lips was enough to charm the younger man. Everything Akaashi did (falling partway down an icy step aside) was truly graceful and fluid. </p><p>“I am only teasing,” he assured, folding his hands on his lap, pulling at his fingers. </p><p>“I know you are.” Bokuto beamed. “Let me go fetch your tea.” </p><p>There were a lot of fancy tea bags in special metal tins in one of Akaashi’s dozen cabinets, though he decided on chamomile, as it seemed appropriate for the time of night. It would hopefully help lull Akaashi to sleep, even through the pain.</p><p>With two mugs in hand, he gave one to his date. Since the remote had been in reach of the sofa, the homeowner had turned on some sort of nature documentary, a soft-spoken British man narrating over videos of butterflies. Bokuto understood a little English, though Akaashi was watching without subtitles.</p><p>“Do you speak English?” he asked as he lowered himself to the floor, sitting in front of the couch. </p><p>Instead of answering his question, though, Akaashi posed one of his own. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Bokuto glanced down. “Oh, well, I wanted to sit near you but I didn’t want to make you sit up.”</p><p>“I can put my foot in your lap.” He spoke so quietly, it was almost as if he hadn’t made the suggestion at all.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“I mean, you don’t have--” </p><p>Akaashi didn’t get to finish that sentence, Bokuto jumping up and expertly holding his mug in one hand while helping raise the lawyer’s foot with the other. Finally, the volleyball player settled into the sofa, a heavy palm resting on the exposed skin of Akaashi’s healthy ankle. This was something he did without much thought, just eager to hold and care for the other. It seemed like a rather natural token of affection, and if Akaashi hated it, he didn’t make a comment. Rather, his blue eyes focused on the television, the scene transitioning into something about a waterfall.</p><p>“Thanks for hanging out with me tonight,”  he said after a long moment, the blue light from the flat-screen TV dancing across his pretty face. “You know, even outside of the gala.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, ‘Kaashi,” he replied, taking a sip of his beverage, suddenly very aware that he was still dressed in his suit. “I had a lot of fun.”</p><p>Something contemplative and a bit pensive crossed his features then, never once removing his gaze from the documentary. It didn’t take a genius to discern that he was watching without truly seeing. “Me too,” he stated after a long moment.</p><p>Bokuto’s thumb absentmindedly traced the sharp bone of Akaashi’s right ankle, taking in every perfect ounce of his flawless skin. Moments ticked on, and still, they sat, quiet and peaceful. Akaashi never did turn the subtitles on, not that it mattered so much, neither of them were paying the Amazon rainforest much mind. Rather, they were soaking up the energy that existed between them, tense and taut, like a bowstring prepared to snap.</p><p>By the time Bokuto finally had the courage to say something once again, he turned to find that the lawyer was fast asleep, snoozing much more peacefully than he had in the car ride over. His tea was halfway drunk, sitting on the hardwood floor beside the sofa. His long arms were folded across his chest, head tilted back against a throw pillow. How this man could never see himself as beautiful, Bokuto wasn’t sure. There he was, the very picture of beauty, enough to send even Helen of Troy into a fit of jealousy. </p><p>“Goodnight, ‘Kaashi’,” he whispered into the still room, giving the ankle in his grasp one last squeeze. “I promise to make you breakfast in the morning.” And when he closed his own eyes, he hoped that that was the first of many promises he would come to make, and keep, for Akaashi Keiji. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A special thank you goes to my dear friend, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarsunfire/pseuds/solarsunfire">solarsunfire</a> for taking the time in not only hearing my word vomit but also for beta'ing this chapter. It means SO much!! Please go check out her work, you won't be disappointed!</p><p>As always, holler at me on <a href="https://twitter.com/photogiraffe77">Twitter</a>!</p><p>Small disclaimer: I absolutely adore Ushijima, he is not trying to be mean, he just states facts and they come across a little blunt lol.</p><p>Next time: waffles</p>
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